REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


UNIVERSITY 


J&"~*^  \    A 

^r        VL^~— - . 


if 

v 


REMINISCENCES 


AND 


ANECDOTES 


OF 


DANIEL     WEBSTER 


BY   PETER    HARVEY  '*'.K;:v 


^sa^ 

UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPAN1 
1884 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1877,  by 

*i     /.I"**     ilTTLE,    BROWN,    AND    COMPANY, 

In  £he  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


7 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS  :  JOHN   WILSON  &  SON, 
CAMBRIDGE. 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  now  a  quarter  of  a  century  —  almost  the  life  of  an 
entire  generation  —  since  Daniel  Webster  died.  During 
this  period  new  issues  have  come  to  the  front,  the  fires 
of  by-gone  contests  have  become  harmless  ashes,  and  the 
reunited  Nation  can  look  at  such  a  life  as  this  great  man 
presents,  with  a  calmer  and  wiser  gaze  than  was  possible 
in  the  nearer  view  of  days  that  were  fraught  with  war 
ring  convictions,  now  at  last  hushed  to  rest.  Through  a 
friendship  which  is  one  of  my  happiest  and  most  grateful 
recollections,  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  intimate  with 
this  man  in  life,  and  to  receive  his  last  messages  upon 
the  bed  of  death.1  And  now,  as  I  feel  myself  drawing 
near  to  the  end  of  this  earthly  existence,  I  desire  to  give 
to  the  world,  and  especially  to  the  rising  generation,  a 
true  insight  into  the  structure  of  his  character,  which 

1  In  a  recent  letter,  addressed  to  the  editor,  Mr.  C.  A.  Stetson  gives 
the  following  interesting  incident,  showing  Mr.  Webster's  implicit  confi 
dence  in  and  strong  affection  for  Mr.  Harvey :  "  During  the  negotiations 
in  1842,  Mr.  Curtis  and  myself  were  sitting  in  Mr.  Webster's  study,  in 
Washington,  when  the  mail-bag  was  brought  in.  With  other  letters,  one 
from  Mr.  Peter  Harvey  was  opened.  Mr.  Curtis  read  it.  Mr.  Webster 
had  asked  a  favor:  it  was  granted.  Mr.  Curtis  said:  'By  Jove,  he  is 
St.  Peter ! '  '  No/  quickly  replied  Mr.  Webster,  '  Peter  Harvey  never 
denied  his  friend ! '  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  more  loving  compliment 
never  had  been  paid  to  one  who  reverenced  Mr.  Webster." 


VI  PREFACE. 

cannot  be  fully  appreciated  in  simply  reading  the  written 
records  of  his  public  career. 

His  sweetness  of  temper,  his  kindness  of  heart,  the 
depth  of  his  friendships,  his  firm  hold  upon  the  facts  of 
the  Christian  religion  (as  illustrated  by  the  Colby  and 
Benton  stories  related  in  the  following  pages),  the  pathos 
and  humor  of  his  home  life,  —  these  ought  to  be  known 
and  understood  by  the  world. 

The  greater  part  of  the  matter  contained  in  these  pages 
is  derived  from  my  own  personal  recollections  of  Mr. 
Webster,  as  the  result  of  my  long  and  familiar  associa 
tion  with  him.  These  recollections  were  dictated  by 
me,  from  time  to  time,  to  a  stenographer,  from  whose 
written-out  notes  they  have  been  prepared  for  this  book. 
Some  of  the  papers  and  books  from  which  these  memora 
bilia  are  taken  were  deposited  with  me,  several  years 
after  Mr.  Webster's  death,  by  his  son,  Fletcher  Webster ; 
and  from  that  time  to  this  they  have  been  a  precious 
legacy,  which  I  now  feel  the  country  at  large  ought  to 
share  with  me. 

I  do  not,  in  these  pages,  propose  to  write  a  Life  of 
Daniel  Webster.  I  am  content  to  act  only  as  the  frail 
but  necessary  thread  which  binds  these  gathered  leaves 
together.  Mr.  Webster  has  written  his  own  biography 
in  the  strong  and  unmistakable  impress  he  has  made 
upon  the  country's  history.  I  believe  that  the  writings 
of  no  man,  in  the  short  but  eventful  history  of  the 
American  Republic,  are  so  destined  for  immortal  fame 
as  those  of  him  whom  it  is  my  last  wish  to  "  delight  to 
honor." 

Let  me  here  state  a  fact  about  his  memory,  which,  to 
my  mind,  is  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  attention  of  the 
reader.  It  is  this.  I  cannot  but  feel  that  the  man  who 
did  the  most  to  set  forth  Mr.  Webster's  life  and  genius 


PREFACE.  vil 

was  Edward  Everett.  I  see  this  fact  in  Mr.  Everett's 
whole  career ;  in  the  depth  of  his  sincerity  and  regard ; 
in  his  lifelong  devotion,  and  in  the  uniformly  affection 
ate  manner  in  which  Mr.  Webster  always  spoke  of  him. 

I  well  remember,  in  the  year  1847,  when  riding  with 
Mr.  Webster  to  the  Dedham  Agricultural  Fair-ground, 
on  a  pleasant  September  day,  he  said :  "  I  have  been 
thinking  over  what  I  propose  to  say,  if  called  upon  to 
make  a  speech.  Mr.  Everett  was  born  in  the  county  of 
Norfolk;  and,  although  it  is  not  always  wise  to  say  com 
plimentary  things  to  a  man's  face,  still  I  may  never  have 
a  better  opportunity,  and  I  shall  tell  the  Norfolk  County 
people  to-day  what  I  think  of  their  distinguished  son. 
When  I  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State  the  first  time, 
by  General  Harrison,  one  of  the  very  first  things  I  did, 
in  the  way  of  foreign  appointments,  was  to  select  Mr. 
Everett  to  represent  the  Government  at  the  Court  of 
St.  James.  In  such  appointments,  it  has  always  seemed 
to  me  that  we  should  choose  men  of  character,  who  would 
represent  the  country  at  large,  rather  than  be  influenced 
by  the  bias  of  party;  for  foreign  nations  judge  of  our 
people  by  the  representative  men  whom  we  send  out  to 
them.  Since  that  time  I  have  had  many  letters  from 
eminent  statesmen  abroad,  thanking  me  for  sending  Mr. 
Everett ;  for,  in  choosing  him  to  represent  us  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  English  people,  I  sent  them  a  man  as  well 
versed  in  their  own  history  as  any  man  living,  with  the 
exception  of  Macaulay.  I  am  going  to  tell  these  people 
to-day  just  what  I  think  of  Mr.  Everett,  for  I  honor  him 
and  love  him." 

In  the  address  which  he  delivered  upon  this  occasion, 
he  carried  out  his  intention  formed  in  the  carriage  ;  and, 
greatly  to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  and  to  the  aston 
ishment  of  Mr.  Everett  himself,  pronounced  a  noble 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

eulogy  upon  his  friend.  Though  he  was  to  come  in  town 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  carriage  was  at  hand,  he 
waited,  saying :  "  Let  us  stop  a  moment,  and  see  what 
Mr.  Everett  says." 

Mr.  Everett,  unconsciously  flushed,  rose  and  said :  "  It 
would  not  be  becoming  in  me  to  bandy  compliments 
with  my  illustrious  friend.  He  has  seen  fit  to  compli 
ment  me  upon  my  attainments  in  international  law.  I 
should  not  dare  to  say  here  how  much  personal  friend 
ship  may  have  had  to  do  with  the  picture  he  has  drawn ; 
but  this  I  will  say,  take  from  that  knowledge  of  inter 
national  law  what  I  have  learned  at  his  feet,  and  there 
would  be  nothing  left  worth  mentioning." 

The  strong  friendship  between  these  two  men  was 
never  marred  by  a  breath  of  suspicion  or  jealousy ;  and, 
if  I  could  have  selected  one  man  from  the  list  of  his 
many  and  distinguished  friends  to  have  written  his  Life, 
I  should  have  had  no  hesitation  in  choosing  Mr.  Everett. 
I  have  often  heard  Mr.  Webster  say :  "In  the  turmoil 
and  confusion  of  party  lines,  when  political  friends  might 
be  forgetful  of  every  thing  save  their  own  prospects,  I 
never  had  a  doubt  or  misgiving  about  two  distinguished 
friends  who  were  by  my  side,  however  public  opinion 
might  vary.  One  was  Edward  Everett ;  the  other  was 
Rufus  Choate." 

There  were  others,  then,  who  could  have  written  his 
Life  more  worthily  than  I.  It  is  not  my  purpose,  at  this 
eleventh  hour,  to  write  it.  I  only  wish  to  disclose  to 
the  public  some  of  the  inner  traits  of  his  character,  to 
do  his  great  memory  full  justice,  and  to  paint  him  as  he 
really  was,  to  a  new  generation  who  know  him  not.  And 
I  feel  that,  unless  I  string  together  a  few  of  these  sacred 
and  long-cherished  reminiscences,  they  will  be  lost  for 
ever  in  the  hurry  of  the  new  generation.  How  many 


PREFACE.  IX 

are  the  relationships  this  man  sustained  to  the  public 
whom  he  served,  and  to  the  private  few  to  whom  he  was 
a  delight !  How  true  was  his  fidelity  to  the  network  of 
responsibilities  that  rested  upon  him  ! 

There  comes  to  my  mind,  as  I  write,  the  remembrance 
of  his  address  at  Saratoga  during  the  Harrison  campaign, 
when,  as  it  may  be  remembered,  the  Whigs  were  much 
given  to  glorifying  the  humble  birth  of  their  candi 
date  for  the  Presidency.  In  this  address  he  made  the 
following  allusion  to  the  circumstances  of  his  own 
birth :  "  It  did  not  happen  to  me,  gentlemen,  to  be  born 
in  a  log-cabin ;  but  my  elder  brothers  and  sisters  were 
born  in  a  log- cabin,  raised  amid  the  snow-drifts  of  New 
Hampshire,  at  a  period  so  early  that,  when  the  smoke  first 
rose  from  its  rude  chimney  and  curled  over  the  frozen  hills, 
there  was  no  similar  evidence  of  a  white  man's  habitation 
between  it  and  the  settlements  on  the  rivers  of  Canada. 
Its  remains  still  exist.  I  make  to  it  an  annual'  visit ;  I 
carry  my  children  to  it,  to  teach  them  the  hardships  en 
dured  by  the  generations  which  have  gone  before  them. 
I  love  to  dwell  on  the  tender  recollections,  the  kindred 
ties,  the  early  affections,  and  the  touching  narratives  and 
incidents  which  mingle  with  all  I  know  of  this  primitive 
family  abode.  I  weep  to  think  that  none  of  those  who 
inhabited  it  are  now  among  the  living  ;  and  if  ever  I  am 
ashamed  of  it,  or  if  ever  I  fail  in  affectionate  veneration 
for  him  who  reared  it  and  defended  it  against  savage 
violence  and  destruction,  cherished  all  the  domestic  vir 
tues  beneath  its  roof,  and,  through  the  fire  and  blood  of 
a  seven  years'  Revolutionary  war,  shrunk  from  no  danger, 
no  toil,  no  sacrifice,  to  serve  his  country  and  to  raise  his 
children  to  a  condition  better  than  his  own,  —  may  my 
name  and  the  name  of  my  posterity  be  blotted  for  ever 
from  the  memory  of  mankind !  " 


X  PREFACE. 

It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to  present  to  the  read 
ers  of  this  volume  an  Appendix,  descriptive  of  the  statue 
of  Webster  given  by  Mr.  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM,  of  New 
York,  to  that  city,  containing  among  other  notable  ad 
dresses  delivered  on  that  occasion  the  eloquent  and  most 
fitting  address  of  our  distinguished  townsman,  the  Hon. 
ROBERT  C.  WINTHROP. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  Professor  SANBORN,  of  Dart 
mouth  College,  who  has  furnished  me  from  time  to  time 
with  papers  and  anecdotes  which  he  himself  had  gath 
ered  through  his  intimate  relationship  with  the  family 
of  Ezekiel  Webster. 

I  wish  also  to  express  my  satisfaction  at  the  able  and 
efficient  manner  in  which  Mr.  GEORGE  M.  TOWLE  has 
assisted  me  in  preparing,  during  the  hours  of  my  physical 
weakness,  these  gathered  fragments  of  my  friend's  event 
ful  history  for  publication. 

My  prayer  is  that  posterity  may  value  this  life,  which 
to  me  has  been  so  inexpressibly  dear ;  and  that,  "  since 
he  had  the  genius  to  be  loved,"  he  may,  indeed,  "  have 
the  justice  to  be  honored  in  his  grave." 

PETER  HARVEY. 

PARKER  HOUSE, 
BOSTON,  May  24,  1877. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. "  EARLY  YEARS .  1 

II.  "As  A  LAW  STUDENT 30 

III.  K  AT  THE  BAR 44 

TV.     AT  THE  BAR  (continued)      .......  79 

V.     AT  THE  BAR  (continued) 114 

VI.  ^PUBLIC  LIFE     .     <^v^V\  ^  &*>fc~^~<~  .     .  147 

VII.  ^MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES     .     .  205 

VIII.  <HOME  LIFE  :    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN  .     .  263 

IX.  ^  PERSONAL  TRAITS 316 

X.     PERSONAL  TRAITS   (continued) 355 

XI.  u  RELIGIOUS  THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS  ....  393 

XII.     LAST  DAYS  AND  DEATH  .  422 


APPENDIX 449 

INDEX  .     .     .     475 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


FULL-LENGTH   SKETCH  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEE,  IN  FISHER 
MAN'S  COSTUME,  BY  AMES. 


VlGNETTE,1    MT.    22. 

GREEN  HARBOR,  MARSHFIELD  .........  263 

LIBRARY  AT  MARSHFIELD    ..........  432 

STATUE  AT  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  .....  449 


1  The  original  miniature  of  Mr.  "Webster  from  which  this  engraving 
was  copied,  was  taken  when  a  law-student  in  the  office  of  THOMAS  W. 
THOMPSON  of  Salisbury,  N.  H.,  and  while  paying  his  attentions  to  Grace 
Fletcher,  who  was  residing  with  her  sister  Rebecca,  wife  of  ISRAEL 
WEBSTER  KELLY  of  that  town.  , 

It  was  given  by  Mr.  Webster  to  Grace  at  that  time,  and,  upon  her 
decease,  was  presented  by  him  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Kelly. 


REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER, 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY    YEARS. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER  was  born  in  the  town  of  Salis 
bury,  New  Hampshire,  on  the  eighteenth  day  of 
January,  1782.  He  was  the  ninth  in  a  family  of 
ten  children,  and  was  the  son  of  Ebenezer  Webster, 
by  his  second  wife,  Abigail  Eastman. 

Of  the  house  where  he  was  born  scarcely  a  ves 
tige  now  remains.  It  was  a  plain,  brown,  substan 
tial  New  England  farm-house,  standing  a  little 
above  the  high-road,  and  upon  a  hill  which  over 
looked  the  picturesque  and  winding  valley  of  the 
Merrimac.  The  old  cellar,  choked  with  weeds  and 
rubbish,  is  all  that  is  left  to  designate  where  the 
house  stood.  Not  far  from  its  site,  however,  may 
still  be  seen  the  ruins  of  an  old  well,  dug  by  his 
father  long  before  Daniel  was  born,  and  from  which 
the  family  derived  their  supply  of  water.  Just  by 
the  well,  in  which  still  hangs,  or  hung  a  few  years 
since,  an  "iron-bound  bucket,"  is  an  ancient  and 
umbrageous  elm,  affording  a  grateful  shade  to  those 
who  choose  to  enjoy  it  in  summer;  and  round 
about  are  some  old  fruit  trees  which  Colonel  Eben- 

i 


2  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

ezer  Webster  planted.  It  was  Daniel  Webster's 
custom  to  visit  the  scene  of  his  childhood  almost 
every  year  for  over  half  a  century  •  and  he  loved 
to  sit  under  the  old  wide-spreading  elm;  beneath 
which  he  had  played  and  romped  in  the  days  of 
his  infancy,  and  to  drink  of  the  still  cool  and  deli* 
•dibits : Water  of  the  moss-grown  well.  Near  by  where 
the  house  stood,  ran  a  rapid  and  bubbling  stream, 
called  "Punch  Brook."  It  has  now  dwindled  to 
a  little  rivulet,  which  feebly  trickles  on  its  way 
through  field  and  meadow  to  the  river.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  highway,  a  little  beyond  the  site 
of  the  old  homestead,  is  the  place  where  stood  the 
mill  built  by  Colonel  Webster,  though  but  little  re 
mains  of  the  building  now.  The  neighborhood  is 
rugged ;  granite  rocks  and  ledges  appear  on  every 
hand  :  nor  does  the  soil  yield  very  abundantly  to 
the  farmer's  toil.  Two  years  after  Daniel's  birth, 
his  father  moved  to  Elms  Farm,  not  far  from  the 
old  place,  of  which  wre  shall  speak  further  on. 

Colonel  Ebenezer  Webster,  the  father  of  Daniel, 
was  one  of  those  stalwart,  vigorous,  strong-minded, 
and  hardy -bodied  yeomen,  for  whom  the  Granite 
State  is  celebrated.  He  was  a  wise  man  and  a 
patriot,  a  hard  worker,  and  an  energetic  and  public- 
spirited  citizen.  Born  in  1739,  he  was  old  enough, 
when  the  French  War  broke  out,  to  serve  in  it  as 
a  soldier.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  enlisted  in 
the  famous  Eodgers'  Kangers,  comprising  some  of 
the  boldest  and  most  rugged  of  the  New  England 
yeomanry.  They  had  to  go  doubly  armed,  and 
to  carry  with  them  both  snow-shoes  and  skates,  to 


EARLY  YEARS.  3 

be  used  when  occasion  required.  Their  packs  were 
of  double  weight.  Webster  served  with  Stark, 
Putnam,  and  others,  who  were  afterwards  Kevolu- 
tionary  heroes.  These  Hangers  fought  desperate 
battles,  and  won  brilliant  victories  on  the  borders 
of  Lake  George.  Webster  afterwards  served  un 
der  General  Amherst,  at  the  taking  of  Ticonderoga 
and  Crown  Point.  In  1761,  he  removed  to  Salis 
bury,  where  he  purchased  a  farm,  erected  the  first 
mill  in  the  town,  married,  and  settled  down  to 
earn  such  a  living  as  he  could  by  tilling  the  not 
very  hospitable  soil.  Soon  a  sturdy  family  of  chil 
dren  began  to  grow  up  around  him,  and  he  found 
it  difficult  to  supply  their  needs ;  but  he  speedily 
became  prominent  in  town  affairs,  and  took  a  lead 
ing  part  in  its  business.  He  was  chosen  succes 
sively  surveyor  of  highways,  moderator,  selectman, 
town  clerk,  representative,  senator,  a  delegate  to 
the  convention  "  for  forming  a  permanent  plan  of 
government,"  in  1778,  and  a  delegate  to  the  con 
stitutional  convention  in  1788  ;  and,  in  the  later 
years  of  his  life,  he  sat  on  the  bench  as  a  judge 
of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  for  Hillsborough 
County. 

Meanwhile,  the  outbreak  of  the  Eevolutionary 
War  opened  for  Ebenezer  Webster  a  sphere  of 
usefulness  to  the  country,  which  took  him  away 
from  farm  and  town-meeting,  and  which  he  en 
tered  upon  with  a  patriotic  zeal  and  ardor  ah1  his 
own.  When  the  war  broke  out,  he  was  captain  of 
the  Salisbury  militia,  composed  of  sturdy  and  in 
telligent  yeomen  like  himself.  The  news  of  Lex- 


4  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

ington  and  Concord  aroused  his  energetic  spirit, 
and  he  promptly  led  his  company,  consisting  of 
about  seventy-five  men,  to  join  the  rapidly  swelling 
Continental  forces  at  Cambridge.  At  this  time  he 
was  in  the  full  vigor  of  sturdy  manhood.  "As  an 
officer,"  says  one  who  wrote  of  him  some  years 
ago,  "  he  was  beloved  by  his  soldiers,  and  always 
had  their  entire  confidence.  He  was  born  to  com 
mand.  He  was  in  stature  about  six  feet ;  of  a 
massy  frame,  a  voice  of  great  compass,  eyes  black 
and  piercing,  a  countenance  open  and  ingenuous, 
and  a  complexion  that  could  not  be  soiled  by 
powder.  He  was  the  very  man  to  head  the  proud 
columns  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty." 

Arriving  at  the  seat  of  war  soon  after  the  battle 
of  Bunker  Hill,  his  company  was  added  to  the 
little  army  of  minute  men  who  were  fast  gather 
ing  from  every  part  of  New  England.  These 
minute  men  were  not  incorporated  in  the  militia, 
but  served  as  volunteers  without  pay.  They  were 
not  soldiers  by  trade,  but  real  patriots ;  and  when 
they  had  gathered  in  their  harvests,  and  had  a 
month  or  two  to  spare,  they  would  go  and  give 
their  services  to  the  country.  Then  they  would 
return  home,  dig  their  potatoes,  look  after  their 
families,  and  hurry  away  again  to  the  camp  and 
the  battle-field.  Daniel  Webster  often  talked  with 
me  of  his  father's  military  career. 

It  was  while  Captain  Webster  was  stationed  with 
his  company  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  that  he  had 
the  signal  honor  of  being  awarded  the  duty  of 
guarding  the  commander-in-chief.  Washington 


EARLY  YEARS.  5 

had  but  recently  arrived  and  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  little  and  not  too  well  organized 
Continental  army.  His  camp  was  on  Dorchester 
Heights,  and  Captain  Webster  had  just  come  from 
New  Hampshire  with  a  quota  of  minute  men. 
This  event  in  his  father's  life  was  always  a  source 
of  great  pride  to  Daniel  Webster.  One  day,  in 
1840,  he  was  travelling  in  Virginia  with  his  son 
Fletcher,  who  observed  that  he  was  in  a  thought 
ful,  silent  mood. 

"What  is  the  matter,  father  ?"  asked  Fletcher. 
"  Are  you  not  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  oh  yes ;  but  I  was  thinking,  Fletcher,  of 
an  old  man,  upwards  of  eighty  years  of  age,  whom 
I  met  in  New  Hampshire  the  other  day.  He  told 
me  some  interesting  incidents  about  your  grand 
father.  He  said  that  he  was  one  of  the  company 
of  minute  men  that  Captain  Webster  commanded. 
He  spoke  of  their  being  on  Dorchester  Heights  at 
the  time  General  Washington  had  his  camp  there. 
A  detachment  of  my  father's  company  was  dele 
gated  to  guard-duty  around  Washington's  tent. 
The  weather  was  frosty ;  and  this  old  man  was  one 
clay  walking  to  and  fro  before  the  tent,  when  the 
side  opened,  and  the  tall  figure  of  Washington  ap 
peared  before  him.  He  looked  up  at  the  sky,  and 
then  turning,  said  to  the  sentry :  (  Soldier,  who  is 
the  commander  of  your  company  ?  '  '  Captain 
Webster,  of  the  New  Hampshire  minute  men.' 
'  When  you  are  relieved  from  guard,'  returned 
Washington, '  say  to  Captain  Webster  that  I  should 
like  to  see  him  at  my  tent  early  in  the  morning.' 


6  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

The  sentry  delivered  the  message,  and  my  father 
afterwards  told  him  what  Washington  had  said. 
He  wished  to  consult  him  as  to  the  feeling  in  New 
Hampshire;  asked  him  about  the  patriotic  senti 
ment  among  his  neighbors,  —  whether  they  had 
counted  the  cost  of  resistance  to  the  British,  and 
were  ready  to  throw  away  the  scabbard,  and  spend 
and  be  spent  in  the  cause.  Washington  talked 
an  hour  with  the  captain,  offered  him  refresh 
ments,  and  when  he  retired,  shook  him  warmly 
by  the  hand.  Fletcher,"  added  Mr.  Webster,  "I 
should  rather  have  it  said  upon  my  father's  tomb 
stone  that  he  had  guarded  the  person  of  George 
Washington,  and  was  worthy  of  such  a  trust,  than 
to  have  emblazoned  upon  it  the  proudest  insignia 
of  heraldry  that  the  world  could  give  !  " 

Washington  need  scarcely  have  asked  Ebenezer 
Webster  if  his  New  Hampshire  neighbors  were  in 
earnest,  had  he  seen  the  pledge  which  Webster 
himself  drew  up  and  persuaded  eighty-four  of  his 
townsmen  to  sign  at  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
This  pledge  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"  We  do  solemnly  engage  and  promise  that  we 
will,  to  the  utmost  of  our  power,  at  the  risk  of 
our  lives  and  fortunes,  with  arms,  oppose  the  hos 
tile  proceedings  of  the  British  fleets  and  armies 
against  the  United  American  Colonies." 

In  the  last  year  of  his  life,  Daniel  Webster  thus 
spoke  of  the  signers  of  this  pledge :  "  In  looking 
up  this  record,  thus  connected  with  the  men  of  my 
birthplace,  I  confess  I  was  gratified  to  find  who 
were  the  signers  and  who  were  the  dissentients 


EARLY  YEARS.  7 

Among  the  former  was  he  from  whom  I  am  im 
mediately  descended,  with  all  his  brothers,  and  his 
whole  kith  and  kin.  This  is  sufficient  emblazonry 
for  my  arms  ;  enough  of  heraldry  for  me." 

Ebenezer  Webster  participated  in  the  war,  al 
ways  with  gallantry  and  courage,  from  beginning 
to  end.  He  took  part  in  the  battles  of  White 
Plains  and  Bennington,  and  in  1780  was  posted  at 
West  Point.  This  was.  shortly  before  Benedict 
Arnold's  treason ;  and  on  the  evening  of  the  day 
when  the  traitor's  designs  were  revealed  to  Wash 
ington,  whose  headquarters  were  then  at  West 
Point,  he  summoned  Captain  Webster  to  his  tent, 
and  ordered  him  to  guard  it  that  night.  "  I  be 
lieve  I  can  trust  you,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  Thus 
Ebenezer  Webster  had  the  good  fortune  to  protect 
Washington's  life  a  second  time.  It  was  stated  by 
Webster  that  Washington  did  not  sleep  that  night, 
but  restlessly  paced  up  and  down  in  his  tent,  or 
wrote  busily  at  his  camp-table,  till  daylight. 

During  the  war,  Captain  Webster  was  appointed 
one  of  a  committee  to  ascertain  what  each  towns 
man  of  Salisbury  ought  to  contribute  to  the  ex 
penses  of  the  war,  and  to  levy  a  tax  accordingly. 
The  richest  man  in  the  town,  who  had  not  done 
any  military  duty,  declared  that  his  share  was  too 
large,  and  refused  to  pay  it.  The  committee  went 
to  him,  and  Webster,  as  their  spokesman,  addressed 
him  thus:  "  Sir,  our  authorities  require  us  to  fight 
and  pay.  Now,  you  must  pay  or  fight."  The 
man  refused  the  tax  no  longer. 

As  a  magistrate,  Ebenezer  Webster  was  noted 


8  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

for  his  honesty  and  judgment,  his  careful  con 
sideration  of  the  cases  that  came  before  him,  and 
the  comprehensive  and  concise  method  of  his 
decisions.  In  serving  the  town,  his  own  estimate 
of  his  services  was  modest  enough,  and  is  an  ex 
ample  to  the  officials  of  the  present  day.  He 
charged  three  or  four  shillings  a  day  for  his  time 
as  a  town  officer.  He  was  not  less  prominent  in 
church  affairs,  than  in  military  ability  and  in  the 
public  business  of  the  town ;  was  often  a  member 
of  important  committees,  and  was  one  of  the  elders 
of  the  Salisbury  Church  for  many  years.  He  died 
in  1806. 

Ebenezer  Webster  had  ten  children  by  his  two 
wives;  five  sons  and  five  daughters.  His  eldest 
son,  Ebenezer  Webster,  succeeded  to  the  farm  in 
Salisbury,  where  he  lived  quietly  until  his  death. 
The  next  child  was  a  daughter,  Olivia,  who  died 
early.  The  second  daughter,  Susannah,  married 
John  Colby,  of  Boscawen,  and  also  died  at  an  early 
age.  The  second  son,  David,  was  a  farmer;  he 
moved  with  his  family,  when  quite  a  young  man, 
to  Canada,  where  he  lived  and  died,  leaving  many 
children.  Joseph,  the  third  son,  was  also  a  farmer, 
and  noted  for  his  ready  wit;  he  died  in  1810. 
The  third  daughter,  Mehitabel,  never  married,  and 
died  at  the  age  of  thirty-seven;  and  the  fourth, 
Abigail,  married  a  Mr.  Haddock,  of  Franklin,  and 
died  early.  The  three  youngest  children  were 
Ezekiel,  Daniel,  and  Sarah.  The  latter  married 
and  lived  in  Franklin,  dying  in  her  twenty-first 
year. 


EARLY  YEARS.  9 

In  one  of  Daniel  "Webster's  diaries,  in  my  pos 
session,  he  thus  touchingly  and  eloquently  alludes 
to  the  members  of  his  father's  family,  and  the  fact 
of  his  surviving  them  all :  — 

"  1839,  Jan.  18,  Friday.  I  am  this  day  fifty- 
seven  years  old.  My  brothers  and  sisters  have  all 
died  young.  I  was  by  much  the  most  slender  and 
feeble  of  the  family  in  early  life  ;  but  have  yet 
outlived  them  all,  and  no  one  of  them,  I  think, 
attained  my  present  age  :  although  I  am  not  quite 
certain  how  this  may  have  been  with  my  half- 
brother,  David  Webster,  who  was  older  than  my 
self  by  ten  or  twelve  years,  and  who  died  in 
Canada  some  years  ago,  —  exactly  at  what  time, 
I  do  not  know.  My  father  died  at  sixty-seven. 
His  constitution,  naturally  strong,  was  evidently 
affected  by  the  hardships  and  exposures  of  his 
early  life.  My  uncle,  Benjamin  Webster,  lived  to 
a  great  age,  —  I  believe  above  eighty  years.  He 
died  in  Cabot,  or  the  adjoining  town,  in  Vermont. 
My  uncle  William  Webster  went  to  Salisbury  with 
my  father.  He  died  several  years  ago,  being  then 
much  the  longest  resident  in  the  township,  and 
being,  I  think,  something  more  than  seventy  years 
of  age.  My  paternal  aunts  lived,  so  far  as  I  re 
member,  to  be  seventy  or  more.  My  mother  also 
reached  seventy.  Her  mother,  Mrs.  Gerusha  Fitz, 
whom  I  well  remember,  died  in  my  father's  house, 
about  June,  1796,  aged  about  ninety  years.  My 
own  health,  from  the  age  of  twenty-five,  has  been 
remarkably  good  ;  and  for  little  occasional  illnesses 
I  have  too  often  been  able  to  see  obvious  causes 


10  REMINISCENCES   OE  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 

in  want  of  proper  care  and  discretion.  If  I  were 
now  to  strike  out  of  the  number  of  my  sick  days 
those  which  have  been  occasioned  by  want  of 
proper  exercise,  by  unnecessary  exposure,  and  by 
some  degree  of  intemperance  in  eating  and  drink 
ing,  I  should  make  a  very  great  deduction  from  the 
whole  list.  For  this  uncommon  health,  and  for  all 
the  happiness  of  a  life  which  has  been,  so  far,  ex 
ceedingly  happy,  I  desire  to  render  the  most  devout 
thanks  to  Almighty  God.  I  thank  him  for  exist 
ence  ;  for  the  pleasure  and  the  glory  of  rational 
being ;  for  an  immortal  nature  ;  and  for  all  the 
gratifications,  the  joys,  and  the  means  of  improve 
ment,  with  which  he  has  blessed  my  earthly  life  ; 
for  the  time  and  the  country  in  which  I  have  lived  ; 
and  for  those  objects  of  love  and  affection,  whose 
being  has  been  entwined  with  my  own." 

For  his  own  brother,  Ezekiel  Webster,  Daniel 
had  not  only  the  most  devoted  affection,  but  the 
most  exalted  respect.  In  his  early  years,  he 
looked  as  anxiously  for  Ezekiel's  approval  of  all 
his  acts,  as  Coriolanus  did  for  that  of  his  mother. 
His  confidence  in  his  elder  brother's  judgment  was 
Unbounded ;  his  reliance  upon  his  wisdom  and 
counsel  was  without  limit.  When  he  had  brought 
the  whole  nation  to  pay  homage  at  his  feet  for  the 
splendor  of  his  triumph  in  the  Hayne  debate, 
Daniel  Webster  had  one  keen  regret. 

66  How  I  wish,"  he  sorrowfully  exclaimed,  "  that 
my  poor  brother  had  lived  till  after  this  speech, 
for  I  know  that  he  would  have  been  gratified  by 
it !  "  It  is  not  strange  that  these  brothers  had  so 


EARLY  YEARS.  11 

strong  a  mutual  attachment  to  each  other.  They 
were  not  only  own  brothers,  but  were  nearly  of  the 
same  age,  and  grew  up  together  on  the  paternal 
farm.  They  shared  each  other's  toils  and  hard 
ships,  and  these  were  by  no  means  trifling.  It 
has  already  been  said  that  Ebenezer  Webster  found 
it  difficult  to  force  a  subsistence  for  his  large 
family  from  the  unyielding  soil ;  and  as  soon  as  his 
sons  were  old  enough  to  work,  they  began  to 
assist  him.  Ezekiel  and  Daniel,  both  endowed 
with  uncommon  minds,  aspired  to  something 
higher  than  the  existence  of  farmers.  They  were 
ambitious  to  go  to  college ;  and  they  knew  that,  if 
they  did  so,  they  must  work  their  own  way.  They 
both  labored  in  the  old  saw-mill  on  the  banks  of 
the  Merrimac ;  and  after  Daniel,  who  was  the  more 
frail  and  delicate  of  the  two,  left  home  at  the  age 
of  fourteen  for  college,  Ezekiel  remained  at  home, 
aiding  in  the  support  of  the  family,  until  he  was 
twenty.  He  thus  developed  the  sturdy  and  noble 
frame  which  was  so  often  remarked  afterwards, 
when  he  became  prominent  at  the  New  Hampshire 
bar.  But  Daniel,  though  away,  and  pursuing  his 
studies  at  Hanover,  did  not  forget  that  it  was  his 
brother's  ambition,  as  well  as  his  own,  to  acquire  a 
liberal  education.  He  wrote  home  urgently  en 
treating  his  father  to  release  Ezekiel  from  his  farm 
duties,  and  to  allow  him  to  attend  the  Academy. 
Although  Ebenezer  Webster  was  embarrassed  in  his 
finances,  with  all  his  property  heavily  mortgaged, 
he  consented.  But  the  brothers,  in  thus  leaving 
home,  did  not  cease  to  aid  in  the  support  of  the 


12  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

family.  They  resolved  to  do  all  that  in  them  lay 
to  pay  their  father's  debts,  and  to  impart  comfort  to 
the  old  homestead.  Bravely  they  advanced  to  the 
battle  of  life,  and  cheerfully  they  met  the  many 
difficulties  and  obstacles  that  lay  in  their  path. 
Their  success  was  due  to  their  own  industry, 
perseverance,  and  pluck,  and  the  steadfast  cour 
age  with  which  they  faced  the  trials  of  their  early 
years. 

It  appears  from  a  statement  made  by  Mr.  Web 
ster  in  after  years,  that  they  shared  the  meagre 
contents  of  a  common  purse  until  they  had  fully 
established  themselves  in  their  profession.  When 
Daniel  was  teaching  in  Fryeburg,  he  on  one  occa 
sion  returned  home  by  way  of  Hanover,  where 
Ezekiel  was  at  college.  The  first  thing  he  did  was 
to  find  out  whether  his  brother  was  in  want  of 
money ;  and,  although  his  own  salary  as  a  teacher 
was  scarcely  more  than  the  wages  of  a  daily  la 
borer,  he  was  quite  ready  to  help  Ezekiel  if  he 
needed  it.  The  result  of  his  visit  may  be  told  in 
his  own  words  :  "  We  walked  and  talked  during 
a  long  evening ;  and  finally,  seated  upon  an  old 
log,  not  far  from  the  college,  I  gave  to  Ezekiel 
one  hundred  dollars,  —  the  result  of  my  labors  in 
teaching  and  recording  deeds,  after  paying  my 
own  debts,  —  leaving  to  myself  but  three  dollars 
to  get  home  with."  But  neither  the  assistance  of 
his  father  nor  of  his  younger  brother  enabled  Eze 
kiel  to  pursue  his  college  course  without  interrup 
tion.  He  was  obliged  to  eke  out  his  expenses  by 
taking  charge  of  a  private  school  in  Boston,  keep- 


EARLY  YEARS.  13 

ing  pace  with  his  college  class  as  best  lie  could  in 
the  odd  hours  when  he  was  not  teaching.  The 
condition  on  which  he  took  the  school  was  that 
the  tuition  paid  during  the  first  term  should  go  to 
the  retiring  master,  —  a  bargain  which  deprived 
Ezekiel  of  ready  money  for  three  months.  It  is 
interesting  to  know  that  among  his  pupils  at  this 
school  were  Edward  Everett  and  George  Ticknor. 
He  even  added  more  burdens  to  himself,  by  under 
taking,  in  addition  to  his  day  school,  an  evening 
school  for  sailors.  The  letters  of  the  two  brothers 
at  this  trying  period  of  their  lives  give  us  a  clear 
insight  into  their  position  as  well  as  characters,  and 
are  full  of  interest.  Daniel,  in  a  letter  to  a  class 
mate  in  1801,  discloses  the  poverty  and  struggles 
of  the  family,  and  his  own  exertions  at  once  to 
relieve  them  and  to  enable  Ezekiel  to  finish  his 
college  course.  He  says :  "  Keturning  home  after 
Commencement,  I  found,  on  consideration,  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  my  father,  under  exist 
ing  circumstances,  to  keep  Ezekiel  at  college. 
Drained  of  all  his  little  income  by  the  expenses 
of  my  education  thus  far,  and  broken  down  in 
his  exertions  by  some  family  occurrences,  I  saw 
he  could  not  afford  Ezekiel  means  to  live  abroad 
with  ease  and  independence,  and  I  knew  too  well 
the  evils  of  penury  to  wish  him  to  stay  half 
beggared  at  college.  I  thought  it,  therefore,  my 
duty  to  suffer  some  delay  in  my  profession,  for 
the  sake  of  serving  my  elder  brother,  and  was 
making  a  little  interest  in  some  places  to  the  east 
ward  for  employment."  The  result  of  "  making 


14  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

a  little  interest  eastward "  was,  that  he  got  the 
school  at  Fryeburg,  and  postponed  the  law  to  a 
more  favorable  epoch. 

Ezekiel's  letters  at  this  time  show  at  once  the 
extremities  to  which  he  was  now  and  then  reduced, 
and  the  unconquerable  buoyancy  of  spirit  which 
he  carried  through  all  his  difficulties.  They  are 
also  full  of  wit  and  wisdom. 

The  close  and  loving  friendship  between  Daniel 
and  Ezekiel  Webster  remained  intact  as  long  as  the 
latter  lived.  As  late  as  1828,  —  the  year  before 
Ezekiel's  death,  —  Daniel  was  seeking  his  counsel 
and  approval  as  eagerly,  now  that  he  had  become 
famous  in  the  Senate  and  at  the  bar,  as  when 
they  were  struggling  youths  with  a  common 
purse. 

Ezekiel  was  thought,  by  many  persons  who  had 
the  opportunity  of  judging  his  qualities,  the  equal 
of  his  more  celebrated  brother  in  intellectual  en 
dowments.  Their  father  was  wont  to  say  that 
"  Ezekiel  could  not  tell  half  he  knew  ;  but  Daniel 
could  tell  more  than  he  knew."  Ezekiel's  great 
failing  was  his  timidity,  while  Daniel  was  as  bold 
and  fearless  as  a  lion.  Still,  the  elder  brother's 
talents  won  him  high  rank  both  as  a  lawyer  and 
as  a  politician.  He  rose  to  be  the  head  of  the  bar 
of  his  native  State,  served  often  in  both  branches 
of  the  Legislature ;  and,  at  the  time  of  his  death, 
in  the  very  prime  of  his  years,  is  pronounced  to 
have  been  "  by  far  the  most  worthy  and  influen 
tial  man  in  New  Hampshire."  It  was  on  the  10th 
of  April,  1829,  that  Ezekiel  Webster,  at  the  age  of 


EARLY  YEARS.  15 

forty-nine,  fell  suddenly  dead  in  the  midst  of  a 
brilliant  argument,  in  the  court-house  at  Concord, 
at  the  very  feet  of  the  judges.  His  death  was 
caused  by  heart  disease. 

The  intelligence  that  his  revered  and  beloved 
brother  was  no  more  was  carried  to  Daniel  Web 
ster  by  a  gentleman  named  Romans,  who  related 
to  me  wrhat  passed.  This  gentleman  was  then  but 
a  young  man,  a  clerk  in  a  store.  At  that  period 
railroads  were  unknown,  and  it  was  slow  travelling 
by  stage-coach,  in  the  early  spring,  from  New 
Hampshire  to  Boston. 

"  I  acquainted  Mr.  Webster,"  said  he,  "  with  the 
news  of  the  death  of  his  brother.  The  driver  of 
the  coach  from  Concord  brought  this  news  to  the 
Elm  Street  house.  He  had  fallen  dead  the  day 
before  in  the  court-house.  The  driver  wished  to 
know  where  Mr.  Webster  lived,  so  as  to  go  and 
tell  him.  I  said  that  I  knew,  and  would  perform 
the  melancholy  errand.  So  I  went  to  Summer 
Street,  and  rang  the  bell,  it  being  nearly  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Pretty  soon  Mr.  Webster 
made  his  appearance  at  the  window  over  the  bal 
cony,  and  called  out,  — 

"  '  Who  is  there  ?     What  is  wanted  ?  ' 

"  I  replied  :  '  I  have  important  news  for  you, 
sir,  from  New  Hampshire.' 

" <  I  will  be  clown  in  a  moment,'  he  said. 

u  He  descended,  partially  dressed,  and  opened 
the  door.  He  looked  at  me  earnestly. 

"  '  I  have  news  from  your  brother/  said  I. 

"  '  Is  my  brother  dead  ? ' 


16  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

" '  He  is ;  and  here  is  a  letter  containing  the 
particulars  of  the  event.' 

"  He  took  the  letter  with  a  trembling  hand,  and 
bade  me  walk  in.  For  an  instant  he  seemed  per 
fectly  stunned ;  but  soon  recovered  himself,  and 
read  the  letter. 

"  I  asked  if  he  had  any  wishes  as  to  a  relay  of 
horses  for  the  return  stage. 

"  '  Yes/  he  replied  ;  '  I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
for  mentioning  it.  But  before  making  any  ar 
rangements,  I  have  a  most  painful  duty  to  per 
form  ;  and  how  I  can  discharge  it  I  scarcely  know. 
Mrs.  Webster,  my  brother's  wife,  is  now  under  my 
roof,  with  her  daughter.  I  must  break  this  to  her 
at  once/ 

"  He  took  the  candle,  and  ascended  the  stairs ; 
and  I  heard  a  tap  on  a  door,  which  presently 
opened.  I  heard  no  conversation;  but  soon  a 
terrific  shriek  rang  through  the  house.  In  a  few 
moments  Mr.  Webster  came  downstairs,  in  tears. 
He  was,  however,  very  deliberate  about  the  ar 
rangements  for  departure,  and  said  he  would  be 
ready  in  two  hours.  He  told  me  to  get  a  comfort 
able  carriage,  to  hold  three  persons ;  which  I  has 
tened  to  do.  They  left  town  at  four  o'clock.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  anguish  that 
appeared  upon  Mr.  Webster's  face  when  the  sad 
news  was  broken  to  him.  He  tried  to  hold  his 
feelings  in  subjection,  but  seemed  to  be  utterly 
overcome  by  the  depth  of  his  grief." 

Let  us  now  revert  to  the  earlier  period  of  Mr. 
Webster's  life.  As  has  been  said,  he  worked  on 


~^> 

In  HI 

EARLY  YEARS. 


. 

his  father's  farm  and  at  the  old  mill  in 
hood  ;  and  he  always  looked  back  to  those  years 
with  fondness  and  affection.  For  his  father  and 
mother  he  had  a  deep-rooted  love.  He  has  de 
scribed  his  father  to  me  as  a  man  of  great  kindness 
of  heait,  as  well  as  energy  and  determination.  He 
was  strongly  attached  to  his  childhood's  home  and1 
the  memories  of  the  years  there  spent. 

One  day,  after  he  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Elms 
Farm,  he  met  me  at  the  Revere  House,  and  took 
out  of  his  pocket  a  little  parcel.  It  proved  to  con 
tain  a  Japan  teaspoon.  It  was  all  corroded  with 
rust,  and  half  eaten  up. 

"A  week  ago,"  said  he,  "my  gardener  found 
that  spoon  in  the  garden,  near  the  house  where  I 
was  born.  I  may  have  taken  pap  with  that  very 
spoon  ;  it  is  just  the  kind  we  used  to  have.  What 
associations  the  sight  of  it  brings  up !  — what  associa 
tions  of  early  life  !  That  and  the  Bohea  tea  :  that 
was  what  stirred  the  Bohea  tea.  I  would  not  take 
a  thousand  dollars  for  that  spoon !  " 

He  attended  school  at  intervals  at  the  district 
schools  in  the  neighborhood,  and  was  at  different 
times  under  Masters-  Tappan,  Chase,  and  Hoyt ; 
and  at  the  age  of  thirteen  entered  Phillips  Acad 
emy  at  Exeter,  then  recently  founded.  There  he 
prepared  for  college,  remaining  at  the  academy 
nine  months ;  and  completed  his  preparation  with 
the  Rev.  Samuel  Wood,  in  Boscawen,  —  the  town 
which  adjoined  Salisbury.  In  1797,  at  the  age  of 
fifteen,  he  entered  Dartmouth  College,  where  he 

graduated  in  the  summer  of  1801. 

2 


18  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


Master  Tappan,  one  of  his  early  schoolmasters, 
who  lived  to  a  great  age,  and  saw  with  intense 
pride  the  fame  and  position  attained  by  his  whilom 
pupil,  has  left  an  interesting  account  of  him  as 
he  appeared  in  school.  He  was  the  brightest  of 
all  the  boys,  says  Master  Tappan,  and  quicker  at 
his  studies  than  Ezekiel.  "  On  a  Saturday,  I  re 
member,"  the  ancient  pedagogue  goes  on,  "  I  held 
up  a  handsome  new  jack-knife  to  the  scholars,  and 
said  that  the  boy  who  would  commit  to  memory 
the  greatest  number  of  verses  in  the  Bible  by 
Monday  morning  should  have  it.  Many  of  the 
boys  did  well  ;  but  when  it  came  Daniel's  turn  to 
recite,  I  found  that  he  had  committed  so  much,  that, 
after  hearing  him  repeat  some  sixty  or  seventy 
verses,  I  was  obliged  to  give  up,  —  he  telling  me 
that  there  were  several  chapters  yet  that  he  had 
learned.  Daniel  got  that  jack-knife.  Ah,  sir  !  he 
was  remarkable  even  as  a  boy  ;  and  I  told  his 
father  he  would  do  God's  work  injustice  if  he  did 
not  send  both  Daniel  and  Ezekiel  to  college." 

The  following  incident  occurred  during  the  boy 
hood  of  Daniel,  which  is  well  worth  relating,  as 
illustrative  of  his  energy  and  resolution.  While 
he  and  his  brother  were  living  at  home,  they  on 
one  occasion  made  a  journey  to  the  upper  part 
of  Vermont,  to  visit  their  uncle  Benjamin.  On 
the  way,  they  overtook  a  teamster  with  a  heavy 
load,  whose  horses  had  stopped  and  refused  to  go 
further,  when  the  team  was  half  way  up  a  steep 
hill.  The  horses  and  wagon  were  so  situated  across 
the  road,  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  brothers  to 


EARLY  YEARS.  19 

pass  in  their  chaise.  After  some  time  spent  by  the 
teamster  in  trying  to  start  his  horses,  he  left  them 
and  went  in  search  of  help.  Daniel  said  to  Eze- 
kiel,  "  Come,  we  can  start  this  team.  You  put 
your  shoulder  to  the  hind  wheel,  and  I  wih1  mount 
the  near  horse." 

This  was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  Ezekiel  put 
his  sturdy  shoulder  to  the  wheel ;  Daniel  mounted 
the  horse,  whipped,  and  shouted  at  him.  The 
horses  pulled  together,  and  away  they  went ;  and 
the  load  was  soon  drawn  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 
When  the  man  returned,  he  found  his  horses 
quietly  resting  by  the  roadside,  at  the  summit, 
and  the  Websters  out  of  sight. 

Mr.  Webster  was  once  telling  me  about  a  plain- 
spoken  neighbor  of  his  father,  whose  sons  were 
schoolmates  of  his  own.  This  neighbor  had  moved 
into  the  neighborhood  of  Hanover,  where  he  had 
opened  a  little  clearing,  and  had  settled  upon  a 
piece  of  comparatively  barren  land.  After  Daniel 
had  been  in  college  several  months,  his  father  said 
to  him,  — 

"  John  Hanson  is  away  up  there  somewhere.  I 
should  like  to  know  how  he  is  getting  along.  I 
think  you  had  better  find  him  out,  and  go  and  see 
him." 

So  Daniel  inquired  about,  and  soon  found  out 
pretty  nearly  where  Hanson  lived. 

"  One  Saturday  afternoon,"  related  Mr.  Webster, 
"  I  thought  I  would  trudge  up  there  through  the 
woods,  and  spend  Sunday  with  my  old  friends. 
After  a  long,  tedious  walk,  I  began  to  think  J 


20  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

should  never  find  the  place ;  but  I  finally  did : 
and  when  I  got  there,  I  was  pretty  well  tired  out 
with  climbing,  jumping  over  logs,  and  so  on.  The 
family  were  not  less  delighted  than  surprised  to 
see  me  ;  but  they  were  as  poor  as  Job's  cat.  They 
were  reduced  to  the  last  extreme  of  poverty,  and 
their  house  contained  but  one  apartment,  with  a 
rude  partition  to  make  two  rooms.  I  saw  how 
matters  were ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  go  back,  and 
they  seemed  really  glad  to  see  me.  They  confessed 
to  me  that  they  had  not  even  a  cow  or  any  pota 
toes.  The  only  thing  they  had  to  eat  was  a  bundle 
of  green  grass  and  a  little  hog's  lard ;  and  they 
actually  subsisted  on  this  grass  fried  in  the  hog's 
fat.  But,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  emphatically,  "  it 
was  not  so  bad,  after  all.  They  fried  up  a  great 
platter  of  it,  and  I  made  my  supper  and  breakfast 
off:  it.  About  a  year  and  a  half  afterwards,  just 
before  graduating,  I  thought  that,  before  leaving 
Hanover,  I  would  go  and  pay  another  visit  to 
the  Hansons.  I  found  that  they  had  improved 
somewhat,  for  they  now  had  a  cow  and  plenty  of 
plain,  homely  fare.  I  spent  the  night,  and  was 
about  to  leave  the  next  morning,  when  Hanson 
said  to  me,  — 

" '  Well,  Daniel,  you  are  about  to  graduate. 
You  ve  got  through  college,  and  have  got  college 
larnin',  —  and  now,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
with  it  ? ' 

"  I  told  him  I  had  not  decided  on  a  profession. 

" ( Well/  said  he,  '  you  are  a  good  boy ;  your 
father  was  a  kind  man  to  me,  and  was  always  kind 


EARLY  YEARS.  21 

to  the  poor.  I  should  like  to  do  a  kind  turn  for 
him  and  his.  You  've  got  through  college  ;  and 
people  that  go  through  college  either  become 
ministers,  or  doctors,  or  lawyers.  As  for  bein'  a 
minister,  I  would  never  think  of  doin'  that :  they 
never  get  paid  any  thing.  Doctorin'  is  a  miser 
able  profession ;  they  live  upon  other  people's 
ailin's,  are  up  nights,  and  have  no  peace.  And  as 
for  bein'  a  lawyer,  I  would  never  propose  that  to 
anybody.  Now/  said  he,  '  Daniel,  I  '11  tell  you 
what !  You  are  a  boy  of  parts  ;  you  understand 
this  book-larnin',  and  you  are  bright.  I  knew  a 
man  who  had  college  larnin'  down  in  Rye,  where  I 
lived  when  I  was  a  boy.  That  man  was  a  con 
jurer  ;  he  could  tell,  by  consultin'  his  books,  and 
study,  if  a  man  had  lost  his  cow,  where  she  was. 
That  was  a  great  thing ;  and  if  people  lost  any 
thing,  they  would  think  nothin'  of  payin'  three  or 
four  dollars  to  a  man  like  that,  so  as  to  find  their 
property.  There  is  not  a  conjurer  within  a  hun 
dred  miles  of  this  place;  and  you  are  a  bright 
boy,  and  have  got  this  college  larnin'.  The  best 
thing  you  can  do,  Daniel,  is  to  study  that,  and  be 
a  conjurer  ! ' 

Mr.  Webster  used  to  tell,  with  great  gusto, 
many  stories  about  his  early  life.  One  was  as  fol 
lows:  He  was  once  at  home  from  college  on  a 
vacation,  in  the  winter  time.  It  happened  that 
a  neighbor  was  going  up  to  Lebanon,  which  was 
about  four  miles  from  Hanover,  the  seat  of  the  col 
lege.  His  father  had  asked  this  neighbor  to  carry 
Daniel  back  with  him  when  he  went.  This  he 


22  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

agreed  to  do,  at  least  as  far  as  Lebanon ;  and 
Daniel  was  to  walk  the  remaining  four  miles. 
Daniel's  mother  had  packed  his  little  trunk,  and 
he  was  to  start  very  early  in  the  morning.  They 
set  out  accordingly,  in  an  old-fashioned,  square- 
boxed  pung-sleigh,  which  contained  several  barrels 
of  cider,  to  be  sold  by  the  owner  at  Lebanon.  It 
was  a  cold,  frosty,  snappy  morning,  and  by  sunrise 
they  had  got  a  mile  on  their  way.  Daniel  wore 
his  new  clothes  and  mittens,  made  by  his  mother's 
own  fond  hands :  she  had  spun,  woven,  and  dyed 
them.  In  the  course  of  the  morning  they  reached 
a  stream,  where  the  bridge  had  been  carried  away 
by  a  recent  flood,  and  was  lodged  just  below  the 
road.  They  saw  that  the  stream  could  be  crossed 
only  by  fording,  and  the  neighbor,  after  looking  at 
Daniel,  said,  — 

"  You  've  got  tight  boots  on  ;  suppose  you  take 
the  reins  and  drive." 

Daniel  did  as  he  was  bid,  while  his  companion 
jumped  out  to  walk  across  over  the  broken  bridge. 

"  I  drove  down  cautiously,"  said  Mr.  Webster, 
describing  the  scene,  "  and  all  seemed  favorable  to 
a  safe  passage ;  when  suddenly  the  pung  sank,  and 
I  found  myself  up  to  my  armpits  in  the  water. 
The  horse  plunged  forward,  and  reached  the  oppo 
site  bank,  when,  almost  as  quickly  as  I  am  telling 
you,  my  clothes  became  a  solid  cake  of  ice.  It 
was  some  distance  to  any  dwelling,  and  in  my 
condition  I  was  sure  of  freezing  to  death  very  soon 
unless  I  was  relieved.  So  I  jumped  out  of  the 
sleigh,  and  told  the  man  to  drive  as  fast  as  he 


EARLY  YEARS.  23 

could.  I  took  hold  of  the  little  iron  rod  at  the 
back  of  the  pung,  and  he  plied  the  whip  lustily. 
I  sometimes  came  near  falling,  but  managed  to 
hold  on,  and  was  kept  from  freezing,  by  the  rapid 
motion  of  the  sleigh,  till  we  reached  a  house,  I 
went  in  and  asked  the  lady,  who  was  at  home 
alone,  if  she  would  give  me  a  chance  to  dry  my 
clothes.  She  said  she  would.  Then  I  asked  her, 
'  Can't  you  put  me  into  a  room  where  there  is  a  bed, 
and  take  my  clothes  and  dry  them  ? '  She  said 
that  she  could,  and  it  was  accordingly  so  arranged. 
It  was  a  full  hour  and  a  half  before  I  fully  recovered 
and  felt  comfortable  again  ;  but  the  fact  was  then 
apparent  that  the  contents  of  my  mother  s  dye-pot 
were  left  on  my  body  instead  of  on  my  clothes  !  '* 
While  in  college,  Mr.  Webster  often  indulged 

his  literary  muse,  and  not  seldom  tried  his  hand 

»/ 

at  poetry.  One  of  his  poems,  serious  and  full  of 
grave  thought,  appeared  in  the  "  Dartmouth 
Gazette,"  in  December,  1799,  and  was  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

"  Happy  are  they  who,  far  removed  from  war, 
And  all  its  train  of  woes,  in  tranquil  peace 
And  joyful  plenty,  pass  the  winter's  eve. 
Such  bliss  is  thine,  Columbia!     Bless  thy  God! 
The  toil  and  labor  of  the  year  now  o'er, 
While  Sol  scarce  darts  a  glimmering,  trembling  beam, 
While  Boreas'  blast  blows  bleak  along  the  plain; 
Around  the  social  fire,  content  and  free, 
Thy  sons  shall  taste  the  sweets  Pomona  gives, 
Or  reap  the  blessings  of  domestic  ease. 
Or  else,  in  transport,  tread  the  mountain  snow, 
And  leap  the  craggy  cliff,  robust  and  strong  — 
Till  from  the  lucid  chambers  of  the  South 
The  joyous  Spring  looks  out  and  hails  the  world!  " 


24  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

He  expressed  a  similar  idea  in  a  noble  and  beau 
tiful  passage  of  a  speech  delivered  in  Congress  in 
1814:  — 

"  I  am  not  anxious/'  he  said,  "  to  accelerate  the 
approach  of  the  period  when  the  great  mass  of 
American  labor  shall  not  find  its  employment  in 
the  field ;  when  the  young  men  of  the  country 
shall  be  obliged  to  shut  their  eyes  upon  external 
nature,  upon  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  im 
mure  themselves  in  close,  unwholesome  workshops  ; 
when  they  shall  be  obliged  to  shut  their  ears  to 
the  bleatings  of  their  own  flocks  upon  their  own 
hills,  and  to  the  voice  of  the  lark  that  cheers  them 
at  the  plow,  —  that  they  may  open  them  in  dust 
and  smoke  and  steam,  to  the  perpetual  whirl  of 
spools  and  spindles,  and  the  grating  of  rasps  and 
saws !  " 

It  has  already  been  seen  with  what  generous  spirit 
of  self-sacrifice  Daniel  Webster  interrupted  his  law 
studies  in  order  to  lend  aid  to  the  education  of 
Ezekiel.  This,  as  I  have  said,  he  resolved  to  do  by 
teaching  school,  a  frequent  resource  then  as  now 
with  poor  young  men  just  out  of  college,  who  sought 
a  temporary  way  of  making  a  living.  This  was  in 
the  winter  and  spring  of  1802.  The  scene  of  his 
brief  but  successful  career  as  a  teacher  was  the 
town  of  Fryeburg,  Maine,  then  a  part  of  Massa 
chusetts,  —  a  town  lying  close  to  the  New  Hamp 
shire  border,  on  the  Saco  river. 

The  following  is  the  record  of  his  appointment 
as  schoolmaster :  — 


EARLY  YEARS.  25 

FRYEBURG,  April  20,  1802. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Trustees  of  Fryeburg  Academy, 
the  following  report  was  made  by  the  committee  :  Your 
committee,  chosen  to  supply  the  Academy  with  a  preceptor, 
to  teach  in  the  Academy,  beg  leave  to  report  that  we  en 
gaged  Mr.  Daniel  Webster,  from  the  first  of  January  last 
passed,  at  the  price  of  $350  per  year,  and  in  that  proportion 
for  a  part  of  the  year. 

DAVID  PAGE, 
JUDAH  DANA 


,  1 
,) 


In  the  following  September  this  vote  was  re 
corded  :  — 

Sept.  1,  1802. 

Voted,  That  the  Secretary  return  the  thanks  of  thia 
Board  to  Mr.  Daniel  Webster,  for  his  faithful  services  while 
preceptor  of  Fryeburg  Academy. 

WILLIAM  FESSENDEN,  Secretary. 

Many  were  the  stories  which  Mr.  Webster  used 
to  tell  of  his  career  as  a  teacher.  He  added  to  his 
duties  in  this  calling  that  of  recording  deeds,  — 
an  employment  he  secured  from  the  circumstance 
of  his  boarding  in  the  family  of  the  register  of 
deeds  of  Oxford  County.  By  this  means  he  added 
not  a  little  to  his  scant  income  as  preceptor. 

In  a  letter  to  a  classmate,  written  in  1802,  Mr. 
Webster  relates  the  following  droll  incident  :  — 

"  On  my  way  to  Fryeburg  I  fell  in  with  an 
acquaintance,  journeying  to  the  same  place.  He 
was  mounted  on  the  ugliest  horse  I  ever  saw  or 
heard  of,  except  Sancho  Panza's  pacer.1  As  I  had 
two  horses  with  me,tl  proposed  to  him  to  ride  one 

1  This  is,  no  doubt,  a  slip  of  the  pen.  Mr.  Webster  probably  meant 
Don  Quixote's  pacer. 


26  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER, 

i 

of  them,  and  tie  his  bag  fast  to  his  Bucephalus. 
He  did  so,  and  turned  his  horse  forward,  where 
her  appearance,  indescribable  gait,  and  frequent 
stumblings  afforded  us  constant  amusement.  At 
length,  we  approached  the  Saco  river,  —  a  very 
wide,  deep,  and  rapid  stream,  —  when  this  satire 
qn  the  animal  creation,  as  if  to  revenge  herself  on 
us  for  our  sarcasms,  plunged  into  the  river,  which 
was  then  very  high,  and  was  wafted  down  the 
current  like  a  bag  of  oats.  I  could  scarcely  sit  on 
my  horse  for  laughter  (I  am  apt  to  laugh  at  the 
vexations  of  my  friends).  The  fellow,  who  was  of 
my  own  age  and  my  mate,  half  choked  the  current 
with  oaths  as  big  as  lobsters ;  and  old  Rosinante 
was  all  the  while  much  at  her  ease.  She  floated 
up  among  the  willows,  far  below  on  the  opposite 
bank." 

Not  long  before  his  death,  Mr.  Webster  betrayed 
the  minuteness  of  his  recollection  of  his  first  visit 
to  Fryeburg,  in  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Robert 
Bradley.  "  At  that  time,"  he  said,  "  I  was  a 
youth,  not  quite  twenty  years  of  age,  with  a 
slender  frame,  weighing  less  than  one  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds.  On  deciding  to  go,  my  father 
gave  me  rather  an  ordinary  horse ;  and,  after 
making  the  journey  from  Salisbury  on  his  back,  I 
was  to  dispose  of  him  to  the  best  of  my  judgment, 
for  my  own  benefit.  Immediately  on  my  arrival, 
T  called  upon  you,  stating  that  I  would  sell  the 
horse  for  forty  dollars,  and  requesting  your  aid  in 
the  sale.  You  replied  that  he  was  worth  more, 
and  gave  me  an  obligation  for  a  larger  sum ;  and 


EARLY   YEARS.  27 

in  a  few  days  succeeded  in  making  a  sale  for  me  at 
an  advanced  price.  I  well  remember  that  the  pur 
chaser  lived  about  three  miles  from  the  village, 
and  that  his  name  was  James  Walker." 

On  being  told  that  Mr.  Walker  was  still  living, 
Mr.  Webster  added  with  great  heartiness,  — 
"  Please  to  give  him  my  best  regards." 
What  with  his  school-teaching,  his  law-reading 
at  chance  intervals,  and  his  deed-copying,  which 
he  did  in  the  evenings,  his  hands  were  quite  full 
at  Fryeburg.  A  portion  of  two  volumes,  filled 
with  deeds  of  his  copying,  are  still  extant  there. 
The  academy  in  which  he  taught  was  a  small, 
one-story  building.  A  few  years  after  his  connec 
tion  with  it,  this  building  was  taken  down,  and  a 
new  one  erected  on  another  site.  The  ground  on 
which  the  old  academy  stood  was  purchased  by  Mr. 
Webster's  early  friend,  Samuel  A.  Bradley,  and  con 
secrated  to  the  statesman's  memory.  No  plough 
share  has  been  allowed  to  enter  the  enclosure. 
While  at  Fryeburg,  Mr.  Webster  delivered  a  Fourth 
of  July  oration,  which  received  warm  praise  from 
his  political  friends,  and  was  acknowledged  by  the 
following  vote  of  the  academy  trustees :  — 

Voted,  That  the  thanks  of  the  Board  be  presented  to 
Preceptor  Webster,  for  his  services  this  day ;  and  that  he 
would  accept  five  dollars  as  a  small  acknowledgment  of  their 
sense  of  his  services  this  day  performed. 

WILLIAM  FESSEXDEX,  Secretary. 

The  five  dollars  were  no  doubt  welcome,  and  far 
from  being  disdained ;  for  at  that  time  every  dollar 


28  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

counted  with   the   two  ambitious  and  struggling 
brothers. 

Shortly  afterwards  he  wrote  to  his  brother  the 
following  parody  of  an  old  song  :  — 

"  Fol  de  rol,  dol  di  dol,  dol  di  dol; 
I'll  never  make  money  my  idol, 
For  away  our  dollars  will  fly  all. 
With  my  friend  and  my  pitcher, 
I'm  twenty  times  richer 
Than  if  I  made  money  my  idol. 
Fol  de  rol,  dol  di  dol,  dol  di  dol." 

The  trustees  of  the  academy,  as  well  as  the 
people  of  Fryeburg,  became  deeply  impressed 
by  Daniel  Webster's  genius  and  abilities  during 
his  residence  there.  The  Bev.  N.  Porter,  D.D., 
one  of  the  trustees,  predicted  that  he  would  be 
come  the  first  man  in  the  country.  Others  de 
clared  their  opinion  that,  if  the  people  could 
appreciate  the  man,  he  would  be  governor  of 
New  Hampshire  within  five  years  ;  and  one  shrewd 
villager  affirmed  that  to  be  governor  would  be 
small  business  for  him.  As  a  teacher  he  was 
greatly  beloved.  The  friendships  which  he  formed 
at  that  period  of  his  life  were  cherished  with  warm 
affection  till  his  death.  In  conversation  he  often 
reverted  to  pleasing  recollections,  and  indulged  in 
refreshing  remembrance,  of  the  past. 

To  one  of  these  early  friends  he  wrote,  not  long 
before  he  died,  closing  his  letter  in  these  terms  : 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  of  your  establishment  and 
the  growth  of  your  fame.  You  have  a  little  world 
around  you ;  fill  it  with  good  deeds,  and  you  will 
fill  it  with  your  own  glory." 


EARLY   YEARS.  29 

To  another  of  these  early  companions  he  sent 
an  engraving  of  himself  as  "  a  token  of  early  and 
long-continued  friendship."  After  Fryeburg  Acad 
emy  was  burned,  the  trustees  proceeded  to  raise 
funds  to  erect  a  new  building.  Mr.  Webster  en 
gaged  in  the  enterprise  with  energy  and  cordial 
good  will,  and  promised  to  forward  the  work  with 
all  his  power.  As  late  as  September,  1851,  he  ex 
pressed  a  purpose  of  being  present  at  the  dedi 
cation  of  the  building  and  delivering  the  opening 
address ;  but  was  prevented  from  fulfilling  his 
friendly  intent. 


CHAPTER    II. 

AS  A  LAW  STUDENT. 

MR,  WEBSTER  began  to  study  law  in  August, 
1801,  immediately  after  his  graduation,  in  the 
office  of  Thomas  "W.  Thompson,  a  friend  of  his 
father,  at  Salisbury.  His  studies  were  inter 
rupted,  though  not  discontinued,  by  his  teaching 
at  Fryeburg ;  and,  after  the  close  of  his  service  as 
a  teacher,  he  returned  to  Mr.  Thompson's  office, 
where  he  remained  about  two  years.  In  July, 
1804,  he  went  to  Boston  to  pursue  his  studies  in 
the  office  of  the  celebrated  Christopher  Gore,  who 
had  already  occupied  high  posts  of  honor  at  home 
and  abroad,  and  who  was  afterwards  Governor  of 
Massachusetts.  He  remained  in  Boston  until  the 
spring  of  1805  ;  and,  during  this  period,  he  at  one 
time  took  charge  of  his  brother  Ezekiel's  school, 
and  thus  became  the  preceptor  of  the  boy  Edward 
Everett. 

Mr.  Webster  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  Boston, 
in  March,  1805,  and  soon  after  established  himself 
and  put  out  his  sign  at  Boscawen,  the  town  next  to 
Salisbury,  that  he  might  be  near  at  hand  to  assist  his 
father.  In  the  autumn  of  1807,  —  his  father  hav 
ing  now  died,  —  he  removed  to  Portsmouth,  where 


AS   A  LAW   STUDENT.  31 

he  resided  until  1816,  when  he  took  up  his  perma 
nent  residence  in  Boston. 

He  evidently  exercised  sound  judgment  in 
choosing  the  law  as  a  profession,  as  his  after  ca 
reer  abundantly  proved.  Sometimes,  however,  his 
fine  literary  taste  was  shocked  by  the  rude  bald 
ness  and  dry  technicalities  of  legal  studies,  and  his 
well-trained  moral  sense  was  still  more  shocked  by 
what  Jeremiah  Smith  used  to  call  "  the  practices  " 
of  the  attorneys  of  the  day. 

He  once  complained  of  the  course  of  study  laid 
down  in  his  time  for  young  students  at  law.  The 
books  first  put  into  their  hands,  he  said,  were  dry, 
technical,  repulsive,  and  to  a  great  extent  unin 
telligible  to  the  beginner.  This,  together  with  the 
style  of  practice  then  in  vogue  in  country  offices, 
tended  to  create  in  his  mind  a  disrelish  for  his 
chosen  profession.  More  liberal  study  and  better 
society,  however,  gave  him  more  enlarged  views  of 
jurisprudence. 

The  following  letter  from  the  Hon.  Judah  Dana, 
of  Fryeburg,  shows  how  a  portion  of  his  leisure 
hours  were  employed,  when  a  teacher ;  and  how, 
like  other  young  men  oppressed  by  the  res  angustce 
domi,  he  strove  "  to  gain  time  "  in  his  professional 
studies :  - — 

ROCHESTER,  Jan.  18,  1805. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  favor  of  December  29  arrived  in  my 
absence,  and  the  necessity  of  my  attending  court  in  this 
town  immediately  after  the  receipt  of  it,  prevented  me  from 
answering  it  till  this  time  ;  and  now  I  am  in  the  bustle  of  the 
business  of  the  court.  I  cannot  ascertain  the  precise  time  of 


32  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

your  residence  at  Fryeburg  as  preceptor  of  the  academy,  but 
think  you  came  in  November  or  December  of  1801,  and 
returned  the  September  following,  making  a  term  of  eight 
months.  On  your  arrival,  you  informed  me  that,  as  you 
had  commenced,  you  intended  to  pursue,  the  study  of  the 
law,  and  wished  the  use  of  my  library  during  said  term. 
You  had  access  to  the  same  ;  and  I  presume  that  you  de 
voted  the  principal  part  of  your  leisure  hours,  while  you  were 
at  Fryeburg,  to  the  study  of  the  law.  If  a  certificate  of  tho 
above  import  will  be  of  any  benefit  to  you,  I  can  truly  and 
cheerfully  make  it.  I  am,  dear  sir,  in  much  confusion,  arid 
with  much  esteem, 

Your  sincere  friend, 

JUDAH  DANA. 

Mr.  Webster,  from  the  time  he  began  to  study 
law,  had  a  strong  desire  to  pursue  his  studies  in 
the  office  of  Christopher  Gore,  at  Boston.  This 
had  been  a  sort  of  youthful  dream  with  him.  Gore 
was  a  great  lawyer  and  a  great  man.  In  1804, 
Mr.  Webster  went  to  Boston  to  visit  a  classmate 
named  Bradley,  who  was  better  off  than  himself  in 
this  world's  goods,  and  was  then  studying  with 
Judge  Heard.  They  had  been  chums  in  college ; 
and  when  Mr.  Webster  went  to  Fryeburg,  Bradley 
began  his  studies  in  Boston.  Mr.  Webster  found 
his  friend,  saw  the  Boston  sights,  and  spoke  of  his 
desire  to  spend  his  last  year  of  study  in  Mr.  Gore's 
office. 

"I  have  seen  Mr.  Gore,"  said  Bradley,  "and 
will  take  you  into  his  office  and  introduce  you  to 
him." 

This  was  rather  a  bold  venture,  as  Bradley  knew 
the  famous  lawyer  scarcely  more  than  did  Webster 
himself. 


AS  A  LAW   STUDENT.  33 

Mr.  Webster,  in  relating  the  incident  to  me, 
said  :  — 

"  I  agreed  to  go  with  Bradley,  and  we  started 
off ;  but,  as  we  were  going  up  the  stairs,  it  oc 
curred  to  me  that  such  an  introduction  would  be 
rather  a  drawback.  I  consoled  myself,  however, 
by  thinking  that  Mr.  Gore  might  not  be  in,  and 
that  that  would  end  it  all.  We  knocked  and  en 
tered.  He  was  in,  and  was  sitting  at  his  desk, 
with  his  black-bowed  spectacles  on  his  nose,  look 
ing  rather  formidable. 

"  i  Good-morning,  Mr.  Gore/  said  Bradley.  6  My 
classmate,  Mr.  Webster,  who  has  been  studying 
with  Senator  Thompson,  is  very  anxious  to  enter 
his  name  in  your  office,  to  finish  his  studies/ 

"  I  stood  there,  anxious  enough ;  and,  from  Mr. 
Gore's  forbidding  look,  feared  that  he  was  making 
up  his  mind  to  give  me  a  point-blank  refusal.  I 
did  not  show  any  forwardness,  but  was  rather  diffi 
dent,  and  finally  said :  '  My  friend  and  classmate 
has  been  kind  enough  to  introduce  me  to  you; 
but  I  did  not  think  of  obtruding  myself  here  with 
out  letters  from  sources  of  credit.  And,  although 
I  have  a  strong  wish  to  enter  your  office,  I  had  no 
thought  of  intruding  at  this  time.' 

"  I  saw  his  features  relax  a  little,  as  he  said  : 
6  My  office  is  hardly  the  best  place  for  you ;  my 
practice  is  very  limited,  consisting  only  of  chamber 
practice  :  you  would  get  more  knowledge  by  study 
ing  with  gentlemen  having  a  larger  commercial 
business.  I  have  a  library,  and  that  is  all.' 

"  '  I  know  that  very  well/  I  replied ;    '  but  I 


34  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

should  feel  proud  to  have  studied  my  profession 
in  your  office.' 

"  Bradley  added :  '  I  think,  sir,  you  will  never 
have  cause  to  regret  taking  my  friend.  I  feel  sure 
that  his  future  will  amply  justify  the  venture  ;  and 
if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  give  you  a  copy  of  a 
eulogy  delivered  by  him  on  a  classmate,  when  he 
was  fifteen  years  old,  which  was  published  by  his 
class.' 

"  I  felt  mortified  at  this,  but  said  nothing.  Mr. 
Gore  looked  at  the  closing  part  of  the  eulogy,  and 
then  at  me.  He  asked  me  some  questions  about 
my  father  and  mother  and  Senator  Thompson,  all 
of  which  I  modestly  answered  ;  and  the  result  was 
that  Mr.  Gore  spoke  kind  words,  and  asked  me  to 
sit  down.  My  friend  had  already  disappeared ! 
Mr.  Gore  said  what  I  had  suggested  was  very 
reasonable,  and  required  little  apology ;  he  did  not 
mean  to  fill  his  office  with  clerks,  but  was  willing 
to  receive  one  or  two,  and  would  consider  what  I 
had  said.  He  talked  to  me  pleasantly  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour ;  and,  when  I  arose  to  depart,  he  said  : 
i  My  young  friend,  you  look  as  though  you  might 
be  trusted.  You  say  you  came  to  study,  and  not 
to  waste  time.  I  will  take  you  at  your  word. 
You  may  as  well  hang  up  your  hat  at  once.  Go 
into  the  other  room ;  take  your  book,  and. sit  down 
to  reading  it,  and  write  at  your  convenience  to 
New  Hampshire  for  your  letters.' 

"  From  that  time  till  the  close  of  Governor  Gore's 
life  I  never  had  a  warmer  friend  than  he.  He  intro 
duced  me  to  the  bar,  and  followed  me  with 


AS   A  LAW  STUDENT.  35 

wishes  and  kindness  down  to  the  period  of  his 
death." 

At  the  time  of  his  beginning  practice,  Mr.  Web 
ster's  father  was  a  county  judge.  The  New  Hamp 
shire  courts  were  then  composed  of  a  bench  of 
regular  judges  and  of  the  sitting  magistrates,  or 
side  judges,  one  for  each  county.  Ebenezer  Web 
ster  was  one  of  these  side  judges.  He  was  no  law 
yer,  but  sat  somewhat  in  the  capacity  of  a  juror, 
personally  knowing  the  circumstances  of  many  of 
the  cases,  and  acting  as  an  adviser.  The  cele 
brated  Jeremiah  Smith  was  one  of  the  judges,  and 
Judge  Farrar  the  other.  Both  were  friends  of  the 
elder  Webster.  They  knew  that  he  had  fought  for 
his  country,  was  everywhere  respected,  and  that  he 
had  made  great  sacrifices  to  give  his  sons  a  liberal 
education. 

It  happened  that,  just  as  Daniel  was  completing 
his  studies  in  Mr.  Gore's  office,  the  clerkship  of  the 
county  court  of  Merrimac  became  vacant  by  the 
death  of  the  incumbent. 

The  clerk  was  paid  by  fees ;  and,  as  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  litigation  in  New  Hampshire,  it  did 
not  require  a  large  tariff  of  fees  to  give  the  clerk 
a  generous  income.  It  is  a  fact,  that  the  most 
lucrative  offices  in  New  Hampshire  at  that  time 
were  the  clerks  of  courts.  They  received  more 
pay  than  the  judges  or  the  governor  or  any  sala 
ried  officer.  A  clerkship  was  worth  from  $1,500 
to  $2,000  a  year,  which  would  be  equivalent  to 
nearly  $10,000  now. 

When  this  office  became  vacant,  lawyers  of  es- 


36  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

tablished  reputation  asked  for  it.  No  member  of 
the  bar  could  earn  so  much,  or  really  received  so 
much,  as  the  clerks  in  the  larger  counties,  where 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  litigation.  There  was 
a  lively  competition  for  the  Merrimac  office,  and 
Ebenezer  Webster  promptly  applied  to  Judge  Smith 
and  Judge  Farrar  for  this  place  for  Daniel. 

They  thought  the  matter  over;  and,  although 
strong  political  influences  were  brought  to  bear  for 
other  men,  they  finally  announced  to  the  father 
that  they  had  decided  to  give  the  appointment  to 
Daniel.  It  was  not  possible  for  them  to  have 
done  him  a  greater  favor.  It  was  a  great  act  of 
friendship  on  the  part  of  the  judges.  They  did 
it  as  a  sincere  mark  of  friendship  for  the  elder 
Webster. 

"  I  felt,"  said  Daniel,  "  that  in  the  fortunes  of 
our  family  the  turning-point  had  arrived.  Before, 
it  had  been  hard  for  them  to  get  money ;  here  was 
an  office  that  would  bring  $2000  a  year,  of  which 
$1500  could  be  laid  by,  —  a  fortune,  every  thing 
that  one  could  wish  for." 

Mr.  Webster  had  just  written  home  to  say  that 
he  had  completed  his  studies  and  was  about  to  be 
admitted  to  the  bar,  when  he  received  a  letter  from 
his  father,  announcing  that  he  had  procured  for 
him  the  clerkship  of  Merrimac  County,  and  urging 
him  to  make  no  delay  in  accepting  the  office  with 
proper  acknowledgments,  either  in  person  or  by 
letter.  He  received  the  letter  at  night,  and  saw 
at  once  that  it  was  a  singular  piece  of  good 
fortune  to  get  this  office.  He  began  to  feel  rich ; 


AS  A  LAW   STUDENT.  37 

now  he  should  not  want  for  money,  and  all  his 
family  could  share  in  his  prosperity. 

With  a  feeling  of  thankfulness  and  gratitude,  he 
at  the  same  time  was  greatly  excited,  and  could 
scarcely  sleep.  He  was  eager  to  tell  his  good  for 
tune  to  Mr.  Gore.  He  went  early  to  the  office,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  hours  never  would  pass  for  the 
time  when  Mr.  Gore  should  arrive.  As  soon  as  he 
came  in,  and  had  taken  off  his  hat,  Daniel  followed 
him  into  his  private  office,  and  his  face  was  lighted 
up  with  joy  as  he  approached  his  patron. 

"  You  are  in  good  plight  this  morning,"  said  Mr. 
Gore  ;  "  you  have  had  good  news  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have ;  and  I  have  come  to  receive  your 
congratulations,  for  I  know  they  will  be  hearty,  — 
you  have  been  so  kind  to  me." 

"  I  then,"  Mr.  Webster  went  on  to  tell  me, 
"  handed  to  him  my  father's  letter ;  and  I  soon 
noticed  that,  instead  of  expressing  delight,  he 
seemed  a  little  moody.  He  did  not  say  he  was 
glad  of  it ;  he  did  not  say  he  was  pleased ;  he  did 
not  congratulate  me.  I  stood  a  while,  and  then 
Bat  down.  Finally,  he  said  :  — 

"  '  You  are  a  little  excited  about  this  office  now ; 
go  into  the  other  room,  and  by-and-by  I  will  have 
a  little  talk  with  you  about  it.' 

"  I  could  not  understand  what  he  meant,  but  went 
to  my  desk.  After  the  lapse  of  an  hour  he  called 
me  into  his  office  again,  and  said :  — 

"  '  I  know  perfectly  well  how  you  feel  about  this 
office.  In  your  situation,  having  had  a  pretty  hard 
struggle  to  get  an  education,  and  appreciating 


38  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

keenly  the  sacrifices  a  fond  parent  has  made  to  aid 
you,  it  is  not  strange  that  you  are  eager  to  repay 
his  kindness.  But  I  want  to  say  to  you  that  you 
have  got  up  the  hill ;  your  education  is  secure,  and 
you  are  now  just  ready  to  start  in  your  profession. 
Although  this  office  of  clerk  of  the  court  is  in  the 
line  of  the  law,  still  it  is  not  a  place  where  there 
is  much  chance  for  the  display  of  talent.  A  man 
merely  rusts  out  in  it,  as  he  would  in  driving  a 
stage.  There  is  nothing  in  it.  To  come  to  the 
point,  I  do  not  want  you  to  take  that  office.' 

"  If  he  had  put  a  pistol  to  my  head,"  said  Mr. 
Webster,  "  and  had  demanded  my  life,  I  should 
not  have  been  more  astonished. 

" '  Do  you  know  the  income  of  the  office  ? ' 
I  asked. 

" '  Yes,  I  know  all  about  it.  So  far  as  mere 
money  considerations  are  concerned,  it  would  be 
worth  while  to  take  it ;  but  I  have  a  notion  that 
your  mission  is  to  make  opinions  for  other  men  to 
record,  and  not  to  be  the  clerk  to  record  the  opin 
ions  of  courts.  You  are  destined  for  higher  dis 
tinctions  than  to  be  clerk  of  a  court,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken/ 

" '  But  money  is  my  chief  ambition,  and  this 
will  bring  it  to  me.' 

" '  I  know  it ;  but  I  feel  so  strongly  on  this  point, 
that  I  am  going  to  persuade  you  to  decline  that 
place,  and  to  trust  to  Providence  for  something 
better.  I  know  your  history  and  your  father's 
wishes  and  feelings ;  and  I  give  this  advice,  know 
ing  all  these  things.  I  don't  want  you  to  take  the 


AS  A  LAW   STUDENT.  39 

office.  You  will  have  a  struggle  with  your  father 
over  it,  and  it  will  be  hard  for  him  to  comprehend 
your  refusal.  But  before  you  leave  me  I  am  go 
ing  to  extort  a  promise  from  you  to  decline  it.' 

"  It  is  needless  to  repeat  the  arguments  that  he 
used.  Suffice  it  to  say  that,  against  my  own  judg 
ment,  I  promised  that  I  would  not  take  the  clerk 
ship.  He  said  kind,  complimentary,  and  even 
flattering  things  of  me,  and  still  I  felt  that  I  was 
throwing  away  a  great  present  good.  I  had  strong 
confidence  in  Mr.  Gore's  judgment,  and  I  do  not 
suppose  anybody  else  could  have  persuaded  me 
to  make  such  a  promise.  He  said  that  if  I  re 
fused  the  office,  and  in  five  or  six  years  I  did  not 
admit  that  his  advice  was  good,  he  would  make  up 
to  me  the  difference.  I  promised.  It  was  a  leap 
in  the  dark.  It  was  faith. 

"  The  next  day  I  started  —  it  being  a  cold  win 
ter's  day  —  to  visit  my  father  and  break  to  him 
my  decision.  That  was  the  hardest  of  all ;  but 
my  mind  was  made  up,  and  Mr.  Gore  had  inspired 
me  with  a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  myself.  He 
made  me  feel  that  there  was  something  in  me,  and 
I  started  for  New  Hampshire  with  that  feeling.  I 
reached  Concord  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day, 
and  there  hired  a  man  to  carry  me  fourteen  miles 
in  a  pung  to  my  father's,  where  I  arrived  in  the 
early  evening. 

"  As  I  approached  the  door,  jumped  out  of  the 
sleigh,  and  mounted  the  stoop  or  portico,  I  looked 
through  the  window.  I  saw  a  blazing  wood  fire, 
and  a  nice,  clean,  painted  hearth ;  and  there  was  my 


40  REMINISCENCES   OF   DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

father,  —  a  venerable  man,  —  seated  in  his  chair, 
with  his  white  locks  streaming  down,  looking  into 
the  fire.  I  stood  and  watched  him,  with  filial 
reverence.  I  thought  to  myself,  how  happy  he 
is  now,  contemplating  all  the  good  that  is  to  come  ; 
and  I  am  going  in  to  mar  and  dash  it  all  away ! 
I  went  in  :  he  never  greeted  me  more  warmly. 
'  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you ! '  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
kissed  me. 

"My  mother  came  in,  and  it  was  a  jubilee  for 
five  minutes.  At  last  supper  was  brought  in,  and 
I  was  making  up  my  mind  how  to  break  this  thing 
to  my  father.  I  almost  regretted  the  rash  prom 
ise  I  had  made  to  Mr.  Gore.  I  wished  a  hundred 
times  that  I  could  retract  it.  Then  again,  there 
was  something  that  prompted  me  to  think  that 
1  could  do  better  than  to  record  other  men's 
opinions. 

"My  father  broached  the  subject,  by  saying, 
'  I  think  you  had  better  ride  over  to  Judge  Smith's 
in  the  morning,  and  be  qualified  at  once.' 

"  '  I  shall  write  to  Judge  Smith  and  Judge  Far- 
rar  to-morrow,'  I  replied ;  '  thank  them  for  their 
favor  as  warmly  as  I  know  how,  and  for  their 
kindness  and  friendship  for  you  which  has  procured 
me  this  appointment.  And,  while  I  render  these 
thanks,  I  am  going  to  decline  the  office.' 

"  My  father  stood  and  looked  at  me  in  amaze 
ment. 

"  '  Decline  !  Are  you  crazy  ?  You  are  joking, 
—  you  are  trifling  !  ' 

"  '  No,  sir  -,  I  am  serious.     Mr.  Gore  '  — 


AS  A  LAW  STUDENT.  41 

" '  None  of  your  Mr.  Gores  to  me  !  Don't  you 
talk  about  Mr.  Gore  ! ' 

"  And,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  I  can  see  now  that 
look  of  mingled  anger,  incredulity,  and  pity  that 
he  wore,  as  he  said  :  — 

"  '  Mr.  Gore  !  —  telling  a  young  fool  to  refuse  a 
good  office  !  —  a  silly  boy  that  knows  nothing  about 
life !  —  filling  his  head  with  some  foolish  fancies 
about  what  he  is  going  to  do,  when  this  opportu 
nity  offers  to  give  him  all  a  reasonable  man  re 
quires  !  None  of  your  Mr.  Gores  to  me  !  —  a  man 
who  is  driving  his  coach  with  four  horses,  with  his 
liveried  servants,  who  knows  nothing  about  the 
struggles  of  life  !  —  filling  a  young  fool's  head  with 
nonsense  !  You  are  crazy  !  You  vex  me  !  You 
never  annoyed  me  so  much  in  your  life  before  ! ' 

"  He  began  to  scold,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
and  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  speak. 

"  ;  My  father,  I  wish  to  say  to  you  that  no  man 
living,  no  son,  appreciates  more  than  I  do  the  trials 
you  have  gone  through  for  me ;  and  no  one  could 
be  more  grateful  than  I.  I  appreciate  all  you  have 
done  for  my  welfare,  and  the  sacrifices  you  and  my 
mother  have  made.  But  still,  I  am  now  of  age, 
and  am  a  man  for  myself.  My  education  has  cost 
you  many  sacrifices,  and  ought  to  bring  you  some 
thing  in  return.  You  may  need  money ;  but  that 
is  not  every  thing  that  we  live  for.  You  yourself 
would  be  glad  to  see  your  son  rise  to  eminence, 
and  be  a  man  among  his  fellows,  —  which  no  ma.n 
ever  was  as  a  clerk  of  a  court.  I  am  more  than 
half  inclined  to  think  Mr.  Gore's  advice  is  good. 


42  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

It  may  seem  otherwise  just  now;  but  I  feel  a 
prompting  within  me  that  tells  me  there  is  some 
thing  better  for  me  than  to  be  a  clerk  of  courts. 
My  mind  is  made  up.' 

" '  Are  you  fully  resolved  ? '  said  my  father. 

"  '  Yes,  sir ;  I  am/ 

"  He  did  not  say  another  word  for  a  long  time, 
—  perhaps  half  an  hour.  Then  he  went  on  :  - 

"  '  Daniel,  in  the  long  struggle  with  poverty  and 
adverse  fortune  that  your  mother  and  I  have  made 
to  give  you  and  Ezekiel  an  education,  we  have 
often  talked  over  these  sacrifices,  and  the  prospects 
of  our  children.  Your  mother  has  often  said  to 
me  that  she  had  no  fear  about  Ezekiel ;  that  he  had 
fixed  and  steady  habits,  and  an  indomitable  energy. 
She  had  no  doubt  of  his  success  in  life.  But  as 
for  Daniel,  —  well,  she  didn't  know  about  him  : 
he  would  be  either  something  or  nothing.  I  think 
your  mother  was  a  prophetess,  and  that  the  prob 
lem  is  solved  to-night.  You  have  fulfilled  her 
prophecy,  —  you  have  come  to  nothing.' 

"  That  was  the  last  time  he  ever  mentioned  the 
clerkship  to  me. 

"  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  judges,  declining  the 
office,  and  returned  to  Mr.  Gore  and  told  him 
what  I  had  done.  I  then  went  up  to  Boscawen, 
and  opened  a  law-office  in  a  red  store,  with  stairs 
upon  the  outside,  for  which  I  paid  a  rent  of  about 
$15  a  year.  I  lived  at  home,  and  walked  to  and 
from  the  office  at  morning  and  night.  I  then  re 
solved  never  to  leave  home  during  the  life  of  my 
father,  who  was  growing  old,  no  matter  what 


AS   A  LAW   STUDENT.  43 

might  betide.  I  stayed  by  him  two  years.  1 
did  not,  in  those  two  years,  make  money  enough 
to  pay  the  rent  of  the  office  ;  but  I  stayed  there 
until  my  father  died.  I  closed  his  eyes  in  death, 
and  received  his  parting  blessing  ;  and  then  I 
started  for  Portsmouth,  and  began  my  career  of 
life  and  practice  there." 

Mr.  Webster  added,  that  he  argued  one  case 
before  his  father  as  judge  ;  and  that  the  old 
man  considered  it  "  a  creditable  performance  ;  one 
about  which  there  was  nothing  to  regret."  He 
thought  that  his  father  was  decidedly  gratified 
by  it. 


NIVERSITY 


CHAPTER  III. 

AT  THE  BAR. 

MANY  anecdotes  of  Mr.  Webster's  early  career 
at  the  bar  survive,  and  a  few  of  them  may  prop 
erly  find  a  place  in  these  pages.  Some  that  are 
given  have  been  told  before,  having  had  the  tran 
sient  circulation  of  a  newspaper  paragraph,  and 
some  I  had  from  Mr.  Webster  himself. 

Joel  Parker,  formerly  chief  justice  of  the  New 
Hampshire  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  and  later  pro 
fessor  of  law  in  Harvard  College,  who  had  many 
opportunities  of  judging  of  Mr.  Webster's  capabili 
ties  as  an  advocate,  has  left  his  impression  of  him 
on  record,  as  follows  :  — 

"  There  is  evidence  of  his  early  professional 
ability,  as  manifested  at  the  September  term  of 
1806.  when  his  argument  made  such  an  impression 
upon  a  friend  of  mine,  —  then  a  lad  of  some  ten 
or  twelve  years,  —  that,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly 
half  a  century,  he  distinctly  remembers  the  high 
encomiums  passed  upon  it.  He  recollects,  he 
writes,  with  perfect  distinctness  the  sensation 
which  the  speech  produced  upon  the  multitude. 
The  court-house  was  thronged,  and  all  were  loud 
in  his  praise.  As  soon  as  the  adjournment  took 


AT   THE   BAR  45 

place,  the  lawyers  dropped  into  ray  informant's 
father's  office,  and  there  the  whole  of  Webster's 
bearing  was  eagerly  discussed.  It  was  agreed  on 
all  hands  that  he  had  made  an  extraordinary  effort. 
One  of  the  lawyers  accounted  for  it  by  saying, 
'  Ah  !  Webster  has  been  studying  in  Boston,  and 
has  got  a  knack  of  talking ;  but  let  him  take  it 
rough  and  tumble  awhile  here  in  the  bush,  and  we 
shall  see  whether  he  will  do  much  better  than  other 
folks.'  Such  testimony  as  this  is  valuable.  It 
shows  that  Webster's  future  greatness  was  reflected 
upon  his  first  professional  efforts.  His  earliest  argu 
ments  at  the  bar  were  creditable,  even  honorable, 
to  his  fame  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers.  Such 
men  as  Judge  Jeremiah  Smith  predicted  his  future 
eminence.  He  never  spoke  before  a  jury  without 
exciting  admiration  and  eliciting  praise." 

In  his  "  Life  of  Judge  Smith,"  Mr.  Morison 
speaks  as  follows  of  Mr.  Webster's  first  appearance 
at  the  Superior  Court  in  New  Hampshire  :  — 

"  At  the  court  holden  in  Hillsborough  County 
in  1807,  a  young  man,  who  had  been  admitted  as 
an  attorney  but  not  as  a  counsellor,  appeared  with 
a  cause  of  no  great  pecuniary  importance,  but  of 
some  interest  and  some  intricacy.  Though  not 
then  of  such  advanced  standing  at  the  bar  as  to  be 
entitled  to  address  the  jury,  he  was  yet  allowed  to 
examine  the  witnesses,  and  briefly  state  his  case 
both  upon  the  law  and  facts.  Having  done  this,  he 
handed  his  brief  to  Mr.  Wilson,  the  senior  counsel, 
for  the  full  argument  of  the  matter.  But  the  chief 
justice  had  noticed  him ;  and,  on  leaving  the  court- 


46  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

house,  said  to  a  member  of  the  bar  that  he  had 
never  before  met  such  a  young  man  as  that.  It 
was  Daniel  Webster,  and  this  was  his  first  action 
before  the  court." 

Israel  W.  Kelley,  Esq.,  of  Concord,  the  brother- 
in-law  of  Mr.  Webster,  has  left  a  more  minute 
account  of  the  same  trial.  He  was  present  in  the 
court,  and  acting  as  sheriff.  He  said  that  Mr. 
Webster's  reputation  as  an  able  advocate  was  es 
tablished  at  the  bar  of  New  Hampshire,  by  his 
first  argument  in  the  Superior  Court  at  Hopkin- 
ton,  Hillsborough  County.  The  case  was  tried 
before  Judge  Smith,  in  May,  1807.  Mr.  Webster 
not  having  practised  in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas 
two  years,  as  the  law  then  required,  could  not 
legally  argue  a  case  in  the  Superior  Court.  By 
special  permission,  however,  he  took  charge  of  this 
suit.  The  action  was  brought  by  his  client  for 
trespass,  against  the  owner  of  a  pasture  adjoining 
his  own.  The  wall  between  the  enclosures  had 
been  thrown  down,  and  the  plaintiff's  horse  had 
evidently  been  dragged  through  the  breach  from 
the  defendant's  pasture  after  his  leg  had  been 
broken,  which  prevented  his  being  driven.  Messrs. 
Atherton  and  Dana,  men  of  eminent  legal  ability, 
were  counsel  for  the  defendant.  Sheriff  Kelley, 
who  was  then  crier  of  the  court,  thus  describes  the 
scene :  — 

"  When  Mr.  Webster  began  to  speak,  his  voice 
was  low,  his  head  was  sunk  upon  his  breast,  his  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  floor,  and  he  moved  his  feet 
incessantly,  backward  and  forward,  as  if  trying  to 


AT   THE   BAR.  47 

•secure  a  firmer  position.  His  voice  soon  increased 
in  power  and  volume,  till  it  filled  the  whole  house. 
His  attitude  became  erect,  his  eye  dilated,  and  his 
whole  countenance  was  radiant  with  emotion. 
The  attention  of  all  present  was  at  once  arrested. 
Every  eye  in  the  crowded  court-room  was  fixed  on 
the  speaker,  but  my  own  ;  for  I  was  obliged  to 
watch  the  door,  that  I  might  prevent  confusion 
by  the  throng  of  spectators  that  were  constantly 
crowding  into  the  hall." 

After  Mr.  Webster  opened  an  office  in  Boscawen, 
his  first  writs  were  served  by  Sheriff  Kelley  upon 
Messrs.  Purdy  and  Currier,  traders  in  Boscawen. 
While  the  young  attorney  and  the  sheriff  were  at 
dinner,  the  former  proprietors,  with  a  reckless 
accomplice,  expelled  the  keeper  left  in  possession 
by  the  officer  of  the  law,  and  by  force  recovered 
possession  of  the  shop.  Returning  to  the  scene  of 
action,  the  sheriff  began  a  parley  with  the  intrud 
ers,  and  tried  to  convince  them  of  the  magnitude 
of  their  offence.  But  Mr.  Webster  resolved  to 
vindicate  practically  the  majesty  of  the  law ;  and 
accordingly  ran  for  an  axe,  to  batter  down  the 
door.  Before  his  return  the  door  was  unbarred ; 
and  the  sheriff  having  recovered  possession  of  the 
property,  levied,  without  judge  or  jury,  a  fine  of 
thirty  dollars  upon  the  owners  for  forcibly  exclud 
ing  him. 

An  able  and  forcible  writer,  N.  P.  Rogers,  of 
Plymouth,  N.  H.,  who  often  assumed  a  rough, 
quaint  style,  was  well  acquainted  with  the  We  fo 
sters,  and  was  in  early  life  their  warm  and  devoted 


48  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

friend.  The  following  letter,  which  he  contributed 
to  the  "  New  York  Tribune,"  relates  to  Daniel 
Webster's  early  appearance  at  the  bar ;  and  is 
worth  inserting,  both  as  giving  a  vivid  picture 
of  that  period  of  the  great  statesman's  life,  and 
as  an  amusing  literary  curiosity. 

"  There  's  a  town  a  little  south  of  me,  about  thirty-five 
miles  off,  in  plain  sight,  where  they  Ve  held  courts  for  the 
county.  It 's  the  county  of  Graf  ton.  They  've  held  courts 
there  these  seventy  years.  Webster  used  to  come  to  court 
there  when  he  was  a  young  lawyer.  They  say  he  went  to 
his  first  court  there.  I  don't  know  how  that  is,  but  he  went 
there  when  he  was  almost  a  boy.  I  could  see  him  plainly 
from  here.  He  was  singular  in  his  look.  Him  and  his 
brother  '  Zeke '  used  to  come  to  court  together  after  a  ^aar 
or  two.  Daniel  came  first,  though  '  Zeke '  was  the  eldest. 
I  can  see  them  now,  driving  into  that  little  village  in  their 
bellows-top  chaise,  —  top  thrown  back,  —  driving  like  Jehu, 
the  chaise  bending  under  them  like  a  close-top  in  a  high 
wind.  I  had  heard  tell  of  Diomede  and  Ulysses, —  a  couple 
of  old  Greeks  that  used  to  ride  in  some  such  looking  cars  as 
they  did,  though  I  believe  the  Greeks  don't  ride  together. 
But  Daniel  and  'Zekiel  Webster  made  me  think  of  them  two 
Greeks.  Daniel  used  to  drive  very  fast.  They  'd  come  in  as 
if  they  had  started  long  before  day  ;  and  it  was  a  sight,  in  a 
small  place,  to  see  them  two  ride  in  together.  I  could  have 
told  either  of  them  thirty  miles  among  a  thousand  men. 

"  The  court-house  was  a  little  one-story  building  that  stood 
on  a  hill.  Daniel  made  his  first  speech,  they  tell  me,  in  that 
house,  and  tried  his  first  case  there.  It  was  a  small  case,  and 
the  only  one  he  had.  He  wanted  to  get  it  put  by.  The  lawyer 
on  the  other  side  was  opposed  to  it,  and  Daniel  got  up  and 
made  a  speech  to  the  court  that  made  the  little  old  house 
ring  again.  They  all  said  —  lawyers  and  judges  and  people 
—  that  they  never  heard  such  a  speech,  or  any  thing  like  it. 
They  said  he  talked  like  a  different  creature  from  any  of  the 
rest  of  them,  great  or  small,  —  and  there  were  men  there 


AT   THE  BAR.  49 

that  were  not  small.  There  was  a  man  tried  for  his  life  in 
that  court,  or  one  soon  after,  and  the  judges  chose  Webster 
to  plead  for  him  ;  and,  from  what  I  can  learn,  he  never 
has  spoken  better  since  than  he  did  there  when  he  first  be 
gan.  He  was  a  black,  raven-haired  fellow,  with  an  eye  as 
black  as  death,  and  as  heavy  as  a  lion's,  —  and  no  lion  in 
Africa  ever  had  a  voice  like  him  ;  and  his  look  was  like  a 
lion's,  —  that  same  heavy  look,  not  sleepy,  but  as  if  he  didn't 
care  about  any  thing  that  was  going  on  about  him  or  any 
thing  anywhere  else.  He  didn't  look  as  if  he  was  thinking 
about  any  thing ;  but  as  if  he  would  think  like  a  hurricane 
if  he  once  got  waked  up  to  it.  They  say  the  lion  looks  so 
when  he  is  quiet.  It  wasn't  an  empty  Jook,  this  of  Web 
ster's  ;  but  one  that  didn't  seem  to  see  any  thing  going  on 
worth  his  while. 

"  'Zekiel  didn't  use  to  speak  in  the  courts  for  a  great 
many  years.  The  talk  was  that  he  couldn't  say  any  thing. 
They  said  he  'was  a  better  judge  of  law  than  Daniel,  but 
couldn't  speak.'  He  did  not  need  to  speak  much,  for  he  gen 
erally  put  his  cases  into  such  a  shape  that  he  got  them  without 
coming  to  trial.  Nobody  ever  knew  how  or  why,  but  Zeke 
Webster's  cases  hardly  ever  came  to  trial.  After  some  years 
he  got  to  helping  try  other  lawyer's  cases  ;  and  then  he  spoke, 
and  as  well  as  a  man  could  speak, — more  sensible,  they 
said,  than  Daniel  himself.  It  was  not  till  after  Daniel  left 
the  State ;  and  some  thought  he  didn't  speak  before,  because 
Daniel  was  present. 

"  There  was  a  lawyer  by  the  name  of  Parker  Noyes,  that 
used  to  go  to  court  the  same  time  with  the  Websters,  —  a 
better  lawyer,  it  was  said,  than  either  of  them  ;  but  he  hadn't 
Daniel's  power  of  talk, — a  nicely  read  lawyer  and  fatal 
pleader.  Webster  used  to  dread  to  meet  him,  he  said.  He 
knew  the  books  and  the  cases,  and  was  an  authority  about 
the  court-house.  Webster  would  sometimes  be  engaged  to 
argue  a  case  just  as  it  was  coming  to  trial.  That  would  set 
him  to  thinking.  It  wouldn't  wrinkle  his  forehead,  but 
made  him  restless.  He  would  shift  his  feet  about,  and  run 
his  hand  up  over  his  forehead,  through  his  Indian-black  hair, 
and  lift  his  upper  lip  and  show  his  teeth,  which  were  as 

4 


50  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

white  as  a  hound's.  He  would  get  up,  and  go  across  the 
bar  and  sit  down  by  Parker  Noyes,  and  ask  him  where  such 
a  law  was  decided,  and  the  names  of  the  cases,  —  not  what 
the  law  was,  but  where  it  was  in  the  books.  What  it  was  he 
decided  for  himself.  Noyes  would  tell  him  where  it  was, 
and  then  he  would  go  back  to  his  seat ;  and  when  the  case 
would  come  up  for  trial,  he  would  up  and  pour  out  the  law 
and  cite  his  authorities,  as  if  he  had  spent  months  in  poring 
upon  it,  —  his  own  mind  arriving  at  the  decisions  of  the 
sages  of  the  law  without  having  seen  the  books,  and  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment;  but,  for  the  sake  of  the  judge,  he 
would  ask  Parker  Noyes  to  tell  him  when^tfie  authorities 
had  written  it  down. 

"  Parker  Noyes  was  a  great  advocate  himself.  You  proba 
bly  never  heard  of  him  in  your  State  of  New  York.  Pie  was 
a  man  that  didn't  wish  ever  to  be  heard  of,  or  talked  about, 
anywhere.  A  man  of  no  vanity  whatever.  He  wasn't  an 
orator  ;  but  his  talk  was  very  powerful  both  to  the  jury  and 
the  judges.  He  got  such  credit  for  candor  and  honesty 
among  the  people,  that  the  jury  put  as  much  confidence  in 
what  he  said  as  if  he  had  been  a  witness  or  a  judge.  He  spoke 
to  them  more  like  a  judge  than  an  advocate ;  and  he  never 
was  excited  or  disturbed.  'Zekiel  Webster,  who  was  a  dif 
ferent  man,  seeing  Noyes  get  up  once  in  his  calm  way  to 
address  the  jury  in  an  important  case,  whispered  to  a  lawyer 
sitting  by  him,  '  See  how  undisturbed  Noyes  is  ;  cantharides 
would  not  excite  him ! '  He  was  one  of  the  great  New 
Hampshire  lawyers.  Richard  Fletcher  lived  in  the  same 
town  with  him,  before  he  left  the  State,  and  owed  much 
of  his  legal  sharpness,  no  doubt,  to  the  training  he  got  by 
the  side  of  such  an  antagonist.  Parker  Noyes,  I  believe, 
did  not  go  to  Massachusetts,  —  'the  way  of  all'  the  New 
Hampshire  great  (besides  those  that  went  elsewhere,  Mr. 
Tribune)." 

The  reason  of  Mr.  Webster's  early  removal  from 
Boscawen  to  Portsmouth,  according  to  a  gentleman 
who  knew  the  facts,  was  that,  "  having  an  engage 
ment  to  argue  a  cause  in  Rockingham  County,  he 


AT  THE  BAB.  51 

was,  at  the  close  of  the  argument,  forthwith  re 
tained  in  nearly  all  the  remaining  cases  standing 
at  that  time  upon  the  docket.  Soon  after  his 
removal,  his  practice  extended  to  all  the  counties 
in  the  State." 

His  practice,  indeed,  increased  so  rapidly  that 
he  could  not  long  say,  as  he  did  in  a  letter  writ 
ten  in  the  fall  of  1807:  "Thursday  I  tarried 
in  Concord ;  Friday  I  came  to  this  place  [Ports 
mouth]  ;  Saturday  I  got  my  office  swept  and  my 
books  put  up,  and  this  week  I  have  been  quite 
at  leisure." 

Before  long  he  found  himself  contending  with 
the  first  lawyers  of  the  State.  He  said  that  "  they 
compelled  him  to  study  ;  and,  when  once  enlisted 
in  this  warfare,  he  was  never  allowed  to  doff  his 
harness  or  sheathe  his  sword."  His  fees  were,  how 
ever,  moderate.  He  once  said :  "  I  went  the  cir 
cuit  of  all  the  courts  in  New  Hampshire,  and 
engaged  in  every  case  in  which  I  would  consent 
to  take  a  part.  After  such  a  term  I  once  computed 
all  my  earnings,  and  found  they  only  amounted  to 
five  hundred  dollars." 

The  following  story  of  Mr.  Webster's  meeting 
with  that  rough  and  ready  veteran  and  patriot, 
General  John  Stark,  has  been  told  before ;  but  I 
now  give  it  as  Mr.  Webster  himself  related  it  to 
me. 

It  was  while  he  was  living  at  Portsmouth,  that 
he  was  once  obliged  to  go  to  Concord  to  attend 
court.  The  roads  being  bad,  he  adopted  the 
familiar  custom  of  the  day,  and  went  on  horse- 


52  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

back,  carrying  his  papers  in  the  saddle-bags.  As 
he  reached  Hooksett,  now  Manchester,  it  began 
to  rain.  It  was  in  the  afternoon ;  and,  finding 
a  quiet,  comfortable-looking  hotel,  he  thought  he 
would  stop  and  spend  the  night,  and  ride  up  to 
Concord  early  the  next  morning.  So  he  put  up 
his  horse,  and  went  into  the  bar-room,  where  he 
found  a  half-dozen  neighbors  seated  around  the 
fire,  drinking  flip.  Prominent  among  them  was 
old  General  Stark.  His  house  was  just  opposite, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river ;  and  everybody  in 
that  neighborhood  knew  him. 

"When  I  went  in,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "there 
was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  as  there  was  likely 
to  be  on  the  entrance  of  a  stranger.  I  sat  down  by 
the  fire,  and  there  was  a  dead  silence  for  some 
time.  I  observed  that  old  Stark  was  getting  into 
a  doze,  and  did  not  seem  to  notice  any  thing. 
Pretty  soon  the  conversation  started  up  again, 
and  the  restraint  imposed  by  the  advent  of  a 
stranger  wore  away. 

" '  What  do  you  think  such  a  man  is  worth  ? ' 
said  one. 

"  '  I  guess  he's  worth  five  hundred  dollars/ 

" '  I  don't  believe  he  is.' 

"  Old  Stark  roused  himself,  and  remarked  :  — 

" '  Well,  I  don't  know  what  he  is  worth ;  but  I 
know  what  /  am  worth.  They  say  a  thing  is 
worth  what  it  will  fetch.  If  that's  so,  I'm  worth 
just  forty  pounds,  for  I  once  fetched  that.  In  the 
French  War  I  was  taken  by  the  Indians,  and  they 
took  forty  pounds  as  my  ransom.' 


AT   THE  BAH.  53 

•'  This  raised  a  roar  of  laughter  ;  and  now  Gen 
eral  Stark  looked  around,  and  for  the  first  time 
noticed  the  stranger. 

"  '  Who  are  you  ?  '  said  he. 

"  I  thought  that  was  rather  a  rude  way  of  ac 
costing  a  person ;  but  of  course  any  thing  was 
permitted  to  the  rough  old  hero  of  Bennington. 

"  '  Who  are  you,  I  say  ? ' 

"  '  My  name  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,  your  name.     What's  your  name  ? 

"  '  My  name  is  Webster/ 

"  '  Where  are  you  from  ?  ' 

"  '  From  Portsmouth.' 

" '  Your  name  is  Webster,  and  you  are  from 
Portsmouth.  Where  are  you  going  ? ' 

"  '  To  Concord.' 

" 6  To  Concord  ;  well,  where  did  you  come  from 
originally  ?  What  Websters  do  you  belong  to  ?' 

"'I  came  from  Salisbury.' 

" '  Oh  ho  !  from  Salisbury.  Are  you  one  of  the 
Salisbury  Websters  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  sir/ 

"  '  Are  you  any  way  related  to  old  Captain  Eb.  ? 

"  '  Slightly,  sir  ;  he  was  my  father.' 

"  ( Are  you  a  son  of  old  Captain  Eb.  ?  Let  me 
see  you  [turning  me  round].  Why,  I  declare! 
Well,  I  am  inclined  to  think  you  may  be.  In  the 
war,  we  could  not  tell  whether  Captain  Webster's 
face  was  a  natural  color  or  blackened  by  powder. 
You  must  be  his  son,  for  you  are  a  cursed  sight 
blacker  than  he  was ! ' 

"At  this,  a  great  laugh  arose  at  my  expense, 


54  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

and  the  whole  company  were  on  good  terms  with 
me  at  once.'1 

*  While  Mr.  Webster  was  living  at  Portsmouth,  ho 
had  occasion  one  night  to  be  out  about  the  "  small 
hours."  It  was  an  intensely  cold,  clear,  moon 
light  night  in  December ;  the  ground  was  thickly 
spread  with  snow,  and  the  streets  were  quite 
deserted. 

'  As  he  was  proceeding  homeward,  he  observed  a 
wcman  at  some  distance  in  front  of  him  ;  and 
fro/n  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  inclemency  of 
the  -weather,  and  her  peculiar  movements,  his  at 
tention  was  attracted  to  her. 

She  would  trot  on  a  little  way,  then  stop  and 
look  back  and  listen,  and  then  walk  on  again. 

Mr.  Webster,  keeping  himself  out  of  sight,  atten 
tively  observed  her  movements.  She  was  going 
the  same  way  that  he  was ;  and,  on  coming  to  the 
street  that  turned  toward  his  own  residence,  she 
stopped  again,  looked  cautiously  around  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  went  down  the  street.  Mr.  Web 
ster's  house  stood  with  its  gable  end  toward  the 
street ;  from  his  front  door-step  to  the  sidewalk 
he  had  caused  to  be  laid  some  loose  boards  over 
the  snow.  At  his  gate,  the  woman  paused  for  a 
moment,  looked  around  again,  and  quickly  picked 
up  one  of  the  boards,  put  it  under  her  arm,  and 
made  off.  Mr.  Webster  continued  carefully  to 
follow.  The  poor  woman  hurried  as  fast  as  she 
could  with  her  burden  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
town ;  and,  coming  to  a  small  and  ruinous  wooden 
tenement,  entered  and  closed  the  door. 


AT   THE  BAR.  55 

The  next  day  she  received,  to  her  surprise  it 
may  be  supposed,  a  cord  of  wood.  -^_ 

It  was  during  his  residence  in  Portsmouth  that  a£/** 
Mr.  Webster  became  the  owner  of  a  parcel  of  land 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  White  Mountains,  with  the 
buildings  standing  thereon,  for  the  valuable  con 
sideration  of  his  services  as  counsel  in  an  important 
suit  in  one  of  the  courts.  The  premises  were 
known  by  the  imposing  name  of  "  the  farm."  He 
left  the  tenant,  who  was  living  there  at  the  time 
when  he  acquired  the  legal  title  to  "  the  farm,"  in 
possession.  After  his  removal  to  Boston,  he  heard 
nothing  of  his  White  Mountain  estate  for  several 
years.  One  summer,  as  he  journeyed  north  with 
his  wife  in  quest  of  recreation,  he  resolved  to  turn 
aside  from  the  travelled  road,  and  ascertain  the 
true  condition  of  his  property.  He  found  a  very 
miserable  hut  upon  it,  occupied  by  an  aged  wo 
man  as  the  only  tenant  of  his  farm.  He  asked  for 
a  glass  of  water,  which  she  readily  served  in  a  tin 
dipper.  He  then  began  to  make  inquiries  about 
her  prosperity,  and  the  present  condition  of  things 
around  her.  She  said  that  she  did  not  own  the 
farm,  but  that  it  belonged  to  a  lawyer  down  in 
Boston  by  the  name  of  Webster. 

"  Does  he  often  come  to  see  you,  my  good  wo 
man  ?  "  said  Mr.  Webster. 

"  No,"  replied  she,  "  he  has  never  been  near  his 
land  since  I  lived  here." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  what  rent  does  he  make  you 
pay  for  the  occupancy  of  his  farm  ?  " 

"  Rent !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  don't  pay  him  any 


56  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

rent.  It  is  bad  enough  to  live  here  without  pay 
ing  any  thing  for  it ;  and  if  he  don't  fix  up  the 
house,  I  don't  mean  to  stay  here  freezing  to  death 
much  longer  !  " 

"  Well,  madam/'  returned  the  kind-hearted  pro 
prietor,  "  it  is  a  pretty  hard  case,  I  confess.  If  you 
will  accept  this  bill  [five  dollars]  towards  your 
holding  on  for  another  year,  I  will  speak  to  Mr. 
Webster  when  I  next  see  him,  and  perhaps  he  will 
dp  something  more  for  you." 

-f     So  he  took  final  leave  of  his  valuable  farm  and 
his  interesting  tenant. 

Judge  Parker  gave  the  following,  as  an  opinion 
which  Mr.  Webster  expressed  to  him  in  regard  to 
the  administration  of  the  law  in  New  Hampshire 
when  he  practised  there.  Mr.  Webster  said  that 
he  had  practised  law  before  old  Justice  Jackman 
at  Boscawen,  who  received  his  commission  from 
George  II.,  and  all  the  way  up  to  the  court  of 
Chief  Justice  Marshall  at  Washington  ;  and  "  he 
had  never  found  any  place  where  the  law  was  ad 
ministered  with  so  much  precision  and  exactness 
as  in  the  county  of  Kockingham." 

Mr.  Webster's  rapid  rise  in  professional  distinc 
tion  at  Portsmouth  soon  brought  him  into  close 
connection  with  the  leading  lawyers  and  judges  of 
the  State  ;  and,  among  these,  perhaps  the  most 
eminent  figures  at  that  time  were  Jeremiah  Smith 
and  Jeremiah  Mason.  Of  these  two  great  lights, 
Judge  Smith's  biographer  says  that  "  both  were 
profoundly  learned,  but  Smith  the  more  accom 
plished  scholar ;  both  were  profound  thinkers,  but 


AT   THE  BAR.  57 

Mason's  the  more  original  mind.  They  were  pow 
erful  combatants,  less  unequal  than  unlike.  With 
perhaps  equal  industry  in  the  preparation  of  causes, 
the  one  fortified  his  position  with  accumulated  au 
thorities,  the  other  trusted  more  to  his  native 
strength  and  the  force  of  reason." 

Of  Judge  Smith  Mr.  Webster  always  spoke  with 
veneration.  In  a  letter  to  the  judge's  widow  re 
questing  an  epitaph,  he  wrote :  "  For  what  I  am 
in  professional  life  I  owe  much  to  Judge  Smith. 
I  revere  his  character ;  I  shall  cherish  his  memory 
as  long  as  I  live.  Would  that  an  impression  of  his 
virtues  and  talents,  fresh  and  deep  as  that  which 
exists  in  my  own  heart,  could  be  made  immortal  in 
stone  !  "  He  introduced  Judge  Smith  to  Chancel 
lor  Kent,  and  his  letter  bore  the  following  testi 
mony  to  his  respect  for  the  New  Hampshire  jurist : 
"  There  are  few  men  in  the  world,  I  think,  more 
to  your  taste.  When  I  came  to  the  bar,  he  was 
chief  justice  of  the  State.  It  was  a  day  of  the 
'  gladsome  light'  of  jurisprudence.  His  friends 
(and  I  was  one  of  them)  thought  he  must  be  made 
governor.  For  this  office  we  persuaded  him  to 
leave  the  bench,  and  that  same  '  gladsome  light ' 
cheered  us  no  longer." 

Mr.  WTebster's  association  with  Jeremiah  Mason 
was  yet  more  intimate,  and  his  recollections  of 
that  great  advocate  were  far  more  minute  and 
interesting.  Of  Mr.  Mason's  legal  abilities  he  had 
the  highest  opinion.  Indeed,  he  did  not  hesitate 
to  pronounce  him  the  first  lawyer  of  his  age. 

These  men,  like  Hannibal  and  Scipio   of   old, 


58  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

mutually  admired  each  other's  greatness.  Mr, 
Mason  once  said  to  a  friend :  "  If  there  is  any 
greater  man  than  Webster  in  our  country,  it  has 
not  been  my  fortune  to^heet  him  or  read  of  him." 
When  Mr.  Mason  had  grown  old,  and  had  virtually 
retired  from  business,  Mr.  Webster  once  invited 
him  to  take  a  tour  with  him  into  the  country  for 
recreation.  Mr.  Mason,  knowing  the  desire  of  the 
people  to  see  and  hear  Mr.  Webster  when  he  trav 
elled,  replied  with  characteristic  bluntness  :  "  No  ! 
I  should  as  soon  go  with  a  caravan." 

Mr.  Webster's  opinion  of  Mr.  Mason  is  repeat 
edly  expressed  in  his  letters.  Writing  to  his 
brother  from  Washington  on  March  28,  1814,  he 
says :  "  Mr.  Mason  is  growing  to  be  a  great  man. 
He  ranks  in  the  Senate,  I  think,  next  to  King 
and  Gore.  He  has  made  some  very  excellent 
speeches." 

Mr.  Webster  first  met  Jeremiah  Mason  on  the 

occasion  of  a  criminal  trial.  A  certain  Col. 

—  a  Democrat  of  note  —  had  been  put  on  trial 
on  a  charge  of  counterfeiting.  The  case  against 
him  was  more  than  serious,  for  many  acts  of 
passing  counterfeit  money  had  been  brought 
home  to  him.  The  Democrats,  however,  were 
very  anxious  that  the  colonel  should  be  acquit 
ted.  Mason  was  secured  as  the  prisoner's  coun 
sel,  and  money  raised  to  support  the  defence.  On 
the  very  eve  of  the  trial  the  Attorney-General, 
who  was  addicted  to  drinking,  failed  the  prosecu 
tion  ;  whereupon  Mr.  Webster  was  called  upon 
to  act  in  his  place.  Mason  had  heard  of  his 


AT   THE  BAR.  59 

promise,  but  remarked  in  his  plain  way  that  "  he 
had  heard  similar  things  of  young  men  before/'  and 
did  not  disturb  himself  about  his  antagonist.  He 
soon  found  out  that  he  had  no  common  adversary 
to  deal  with.  Webster  "  came  down  upon  him," 
as  he  said,  "  like  a  thunder-shower."  The  prisoner 
was,  indeed,  acquitted ;  but  this  was,  in  Mr.  Ma 
son's  own  opinion,  rather  owing  to  the  political 
leaning  of  the  jury  than  to  the  superiority  of  the 
defence. 

"  Mr.  Mason,"  says  Judge  Smith's  biographer, 
"  was  particularly  struck  with  the  high,  open,  and 
manly  ground  taken  by  Mr.  Webster,  who,  instead 
of  availing  himself  of  any  technical  advantage  in 
pushing  the  prisoner  hard,  confined  himself  to  the 
main  points  of  law*  and  fact.  He  said  that  he  had 
never  since  known  Mr.  Webster  to  show  greater 
legal  ability  in  any  argument." 

The  following  anecdote  of  the  two  lawyers  is 
furnished  by  a  friend  and  admirer  of  both :  "  I 
happened  one  day,"  he  says,  "  to  enter  the  court 
room  at  Portsmouth,  where  I  often  went  to  hear 
Webster  and  Mason,  who  were  always  opposed  to 
each  other  in  important  cases.  I  accidentally 
overheard  the  following  dialogue  between  them, 
when  a  new  case  was  called,  and  the  clerk  of  the 
court  asked  who  the  counsel  were  on  each  side  : 

" '  Which  side  are  you  on  in  this  case  ? '  said 
Mason  to  Webster. 

"'I  don't  know/  was  the  reply ;  '  take  your 
choice.' ' 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  many  interesting  anecdotes 


60  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 

about  this  hesored  rival  of  his  early  triumphs. 
"  When  I  went  to  Portsmouth,"  said  he,  "  I  was 
a  young  man  of  twenty-four,  and  Mr.  Mason  was 
forty.  He  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  bar,  and 
was  employed  in  nearly  all  the  great  cases  ;  a  man 
who  was  a  terror  to  all  young  lawyers,  because  he 
was  not  conciliatory  in  his  manner.  I  had  a  sort 
of  awe  for  Mr.  Mason  when  I  went  to  Portsmouth ; 
but,  in  a  residence  and  practice  of  nine  years, 
nothing  ever  occurred  to  mar  our  friendship, 
although  in  almost  all  cases  we  went  the  circuit 
of  the  State  on  opposite  sides.  We  travelled, 
boarded,  and  roomed  together  when  on  circuit. 
Mr.  Mason  was  friendly  and  kind,  and  was  one  of 
my  earliest,  truest,  and  best  friends.  In  only  one 
instance  did  he  ever  treat  me  unkindly.  It  was  in 
court  at  Portsmouth.  I  was  proud  of  Mr.  Mason's 
friendship,  as  any  young  man  would  be ;  and  it 
was  remarked  by  others,  '  how  fond  Mr.  Mason 
appeared  to  be  of  young  Webster ! '  But  on  this 
occasion  something  irritated  him  in  court,  and  he 
turned  upon  me  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger,  and 
assailed  me  as  bitterly  as  his  tongue  was  capable  of 
doing.  I  was  grieved,  and  could  not  retort.  I 
went  home  depressed,  and  my  wife  asked  me  what 
the  matter  was.  I  replied  :  '  Mr.  Mason  has  treated 
me  unkindly ; '  and  I  was  speaking  of  it  when  Mr. 
Mason's  servant  came  in,  and  said  that  his  master 
wished  to  see  me  at  his  office.  I  immediately  went 
thither.  Mr.  Mason  met  me  in  the  most  cordial 
manner,  and  said  :  '  I  was  irritated  about  something, 
when  my  eye  fell  on  you,  and  I  vented  my  feelings 


AT   THE  BAR.  61 

in  the  way  I  did.  Don't  think  of  it,  for  I  meant 
nothing  of  the  sort.' 

"  I  was  most  glad  to  have  the  matter  end  so ; 
and  that  was  the  only  time  he  ever  treated  me 
unkindly  in  any  way." 

"  One  day,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  Mr.  Mason  said 
to  me :  — 

"'  You  graduated  at  Dartmouth  College  —  I  at 
Yale.  I  never  was  at  Dartmouth  at  commence 
ment  ;  would  not  you  like  to  go  ?  ' 

"  i  Yes ;  I  should  be  delighted  if  I  had  the  means 
to  afford  it/  I  replied." 

Mr.  Mason  and  Mr.  Webster  used  to  ride  about 
together  in  a  chaise,  carrying  their  luggage  in  a 
trunk  tied  under  the  vehicle. 

" '  Well/  said  Mr.  Mason,  '  I  have  been  thinking 
it  over,  and  I  should  like  to  go  up  to  Hanover  to 
commencement,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  I 
should  not.  And  besides,  on  the  way  there,  at 
Enfieldj  lives  a  curious  community  of  Shakers,  in 
whom  I  feel  interested.  One  of  them,  named 
Lucas,  applied  to  me  not  long  ago  to  assist  in  col 
lecting  a  debt,  and  I  became  quite  interested  in 
the  people  and  their  curious  customs.  If  you  have 
a  mind  to  go  up  to  Hanover,  I  '11  take  you  in 
my  chaise,  and  we  will  stop  and  dine  with  these 
Shakers/ 

" '  I  shall  be  delighted  to  go/  I  replied. 

"  So  the  day  was  set ;  and,  until  it  arrived, 
Mr.  Mason  talked  of  nothing  but  this  excursion. 
We  planned  it  all  in  advance ;  we  were  to  start 
early,  stop  at  Enfield  and  take  dinner,  spend  an 


62  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

hour  or  two  with  the  Shakers,  and  then,  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening,  drive  up  to  Hanover.  The 
next  day  we  would  attend  commencement ;  and 
on  the  third  day  return  home.  Mr.  Mason  was  as 
delighted  as  a  boy,  and  we  started  on  this  pleasant 
(excursion  according  to  the  plan,  and  reached  the 
Shaker  village  just  about  twelve  o'clock.  Mr. 
Mason  talked  all  the  way  about  the  Shakers,  —  of 
their  mode  of  life,  what  could  induce  them  to  live 
in  seclusion,  what  a  quiet  people  they  were,  and 
so  on.  As  we  drove  up  to  the  gate,  the  women 
were  just  passing  from  their  dining-room  across 
the  green,  a  little  above  where  we  tied  the  horse. 
Mason  had  a  long  whip  in  his  hand,  and  as  they 
passed  we  deferentially  stepped  aside  from  their 
path.  I  noticed  that  the  women,  as  they  passed, 
dressed  in  their  plain  attire,  looked  at  Mason's  tall 
figure  and  smiled,  and  finally  giggled  outright.  I 
knew  his  sensitiveness,  and  I  attempted  to  draw 
his  attention  away ;  but  the  situation  became  pain 
ful,  until  the  procession  was  out  of  sight.  We 
moved  towards  the  house,  and  pretty  soon  two  or 
three  Shakers  came  out.  They  looked  at  Mr. 
Mason  in  astonishment;  they  gazed  at  his  feet, 
his  head,  and  his  legs,  and  walked  around  him  to 
get  a  good  view.  I  kept  as  far  behind  as  I  could, 
so  as  to  avoid  the  coming  wrath.  Mason  spoke 
up  and  said :  '  We  are  going  up  to  Hanover  to  at 
tend  commencement,  and  thought  we  would  come 
this  way.  We  have  heard  something  about  your 
people,  and,  if  you  would  bait  our  horse  and  give 
us  a  little  dinner,  we  should  be  grateful.  We 


AT  THE  BAR.  63 

have  come  from  the  lower  part  of  the  State.'  In 
stead  of  saying,  '  Certainly/  taking  the  horse,  and 
giving  us  their  best  hospitality,  they  were  evi 
dently  awe-struck  at  Mason's  height,  and  stood 
still  and  stared.  At  last  one  of  them  said  :  — 

"  '  Thou  must  be  Jeremiah  Mason,  of  Portsmouth. 
Friend  Lucas  saw  Mr.  Mason  in  Portsmouth,  and 
since  he  returned  he  has  talked  of  nothing  but 
his  extraordinary  stature.  We  saw  thee  come  in, 
and  we  thought  thou  must  be  he.' 

"  '  Yes,'  he  replied, '  I  am  Jeremiah  Mason ;  but 
I  did  not  come  here  to  be  insulted.  Come,  Web 
ster,  let 's  leave  this  place.' 

"  '  But,'  said  I,  '  wait  a  moment.' 

"  '  No  ! '  he  retorted  ;  '  don't  talk  to  me  ;  come 
along !  I  did  not  come  here  to  be  insulted  by  a 
pack  of  broad-brims  ! ' 

"  They  now  begged  him  to  stop  and  dine ;  but 
he  had  begun  to  untie  his  horse,  and  would  hear 
nothing.  (  Come  along,  Webster  !  '  cried  he,  '  I've 
had  enough  of  these  people  ;  I  did  not  come  here 
to  be  insulted  ! '  So  I  got  into  the  chaise,  and  he 
put  on  the  whip,  driving  the  horse  at  top  speed 
till  we  reached  the  next  tavern.  And,  from  that 
day  to  this,  he  has  never  said  '  Shaker '  to  me." 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  Mason,  at  various  periods 
of  his  life,  was  differently  affected  by  his  gigantic 
stature.  When  young,  he  was  annoyed  by  it,  and 
could  not  bear  an  allusion  to  his  height.  "  Proba 
bly,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  the  stoop  in  his  gait, 
which  was  quite  marked  in  old  age,  was  first 
acquired  by  an  instinctive  effort  to  seem  shorter 


N 

64  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

than  he  was."  In  middle  age,  however.  Mason 
seemed  to  him  to  change  in  his  feeling  as  to  his 
bodily  peculiarity,  and  to  become  actually  proud 
of  his  majestic  port.  In  old  age  he  became  quite 
indifferent  to  what  was  said  about  it.  Mr.  Webster 
thought  that  the  homely  and  blunt  style  which 
Mason  adopted  was  assumed  as  a  sort  of  bravado, 
and  an  exhibition  of  contempt  for  the  remarks  on 
his  peculiarities.  He  was  clownish,  and  could  not 
be  any  thing  else,  he  said.  His  voice  had  a  strong 
nasal  twang,  and  his  movements  were  the  most  un 
couth  possible. 

Once  Mr.  Choate,  in  order  to  draw  out  Mr. 
Webster's  recollections  of  Mason,  said  to  him : 

"  Your  opinion  of  Jeremiah  Mason  is,  I  think, 
that  he  was,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  your  beau- 
ideal  of  a  lawyer." 

Mr.  Webster  leaned  forward  on  his  elbows,  and 
replied  :  — 

"  I  have  known  Jeremiah  Mason  longer,  I  may 
say,  than  I  have  known  any  eminent  man.  He 
was  the  first  man  of  distinction  in  the  law  whom  I 
knew ;  and,  when  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
him,  he  was  in  full  practice.  I  knew  that  genera 
tion  of  lawyers  as  a  younger  man  knows  those  who 
are  his  superiors  in  age,  —  by  tradition,  reputation, 
and  hearsay,  and  by  occasionally  being  present 
and  hearing  their  efforts.  In  this  way  I  knew 
Luther  Martin,  Edmund  Kandolph,  Goodloe  Hart, 
and  all  those  great  lights  of  the  law  ;  and,  by  the 
way,  I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  was  an  abler  bar 
than  the  present  one,  —  of  course  with  some  bril- 


AT   THE   BAR.  65 

liant  exceptions.  Of  the  present  bar  of  the  United 
States  I  think  I  am  able  to  form  a  pretty  fair 
opinion,  having  an  intimate  personal  knowledge  of 
them  in  the  local  and  federal  courts ;  and  this  I  can 
say,  that  I  regard  Jeremiah  Mason  as  eminently 
superior  to  any  other  lawyer  whom  I  ever  met.  I 
should  rather,  with  my  own  experience  (and  I  have 
had  some  pretty  tough  experience  with  him),  meet 
them  all  combined  in  a  case,  than  to  meet  him 
alone  and  single-handed.  He  was  the  keenest 
lawyer  that  I  ever  met  or  read  about.  If  a  man 
had  Jeremiah  Mason,  and  he  did  not  get  his  case, 
no  human  ingenuity  or  learning  could  get  it.  He 
drew  from  a  very  deep  fountain.  Yes/'  smilingly 
added  Mr.  Webster,  to  the  great  amusement  of 
the  company,  "  I  should  think  he  did,  —  from  his 
height !  " 

Mr.  Webster  once  told  me  a  story  of  Mr.  Mason, 
apropos  of  his  connection  with  the  defence  of 
E.  K.  Avery,  —  a  Methodist  minister  who  was 
accused  of  murdering  a  Mrs.  Cornell  at  Fall  River. 
The  Methodists,  feeling  the  reputation  of  their  de 
nomination  to  be  at  stake,  raised  a  large  subscrip 
tion,  and  employed  Mr.  Mason  to  defend  Mr. 
Avery.  The  trial  was  a  long  and  tedious  one ;  and 
Mr.  Mason  was  much  perplexed  and  harassed  by 
the  constant  stream  of  impertinent  inquiry  and 
suggestion  which  came  from  the  prisoner's  friends. 
A  great  deal  of  testimony  was  taken  in  the  trial, 
which  lasted  for  three  weeks ;  and,  as  Mason  was 
then  old,  and  about  giving  up  his  profession,  he 
wanted  a  quiet  night  to  prepare  himself  physically 

6 


66  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

for  engaging  in  the  final  arguments.  He  knew  by 
experience  that  he  must  take  precautions  to  avoid 
being  roused  from  his  sleep  by  some  of  these  med 
dling  friends ;  so  he  told  the  barkeeper  at  his  hotel 
that  he  was  going  to  bed  early,  and  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  be,  and  would  not  be,  disturbed  after  he 
had  retired  to  his  room.  He  went  to  bed.  About 
eleven  o'clock,  a  ministerial-looking  person  came 
in,  and  said  to  the  barkeeper  :  — 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Mason." 

"  You  can't  see  him  to-night.  He  is  very  tired, 
and  gave  orders  that  he  should  not  be  disturbed." 

"  But  I  must  see  him.  If  I  should  not  see  him 
to-night,  and  if  to-morrow  the  case  should  go 
wrong,  I  never  should  forgive  myself.'' 

"  Well,"  returned  the  barkeeper,  "  I'll  show  you 
his  room." 

This  he  accordingly  did.  Mr.  Mason  rose  up  in 
bed,  and  exclaimed  to  the  barkeeper  :  — 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  he,  "  the  man  must  explain." 

Mr.  Mason  thought  the  best  way  to  get  out  of 
the  difficulty  was  to  hear  what  the  intruder  had  to 
say ;  and  he  told  him,  rather  roughly,  to  begin. 

"  I  had  retired  to  rest  about  an  hour  ago,"  said 
the  man,  "  after  having  commended  this  case, 
Brother  Avery,  and  everybody  connected  with  it 
to  the  Throne  of  Grace,  in  fervent  prayer  that  the 
truth  might  be  elicited ;  and  I  do  not  know  how 
long  I  had  slept,  when  I  was  awakened  by  an  au 
dible  voice.  I  saw  an  angel  standing  right  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  just  as  distinctly  as  I  see  you ;  and 


AT  THE  BAR.  67 

in  a  very  distinct  tone  of  voice,  it  said :  '  Mr.  Avery 
is  innocent  of  this  crime/  and  immediately  van 
ished.  Of  this,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath." 

Mr.  Mason  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
mixed  indignation  and  contempt ;  but  was  so  much 
struck,  after  a  moment,  by  the  ludicrousness  of  the 
scene,  that  he  began  to  question  the  man. 

"  You  yourself  saw  this  angel  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  And  he  immediately  vanished  ?  " 

"He  did." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  possibility  of  seeing 
him  again  ? " 

"  It  may  be." 

"  Well,  if  you  should  happen  to  see  him,  you 
just  ask  him  how  he  could  prove  it !  " 

Among  Mr.  Webster's  reminiscences  of  his  pro 
fessional  career  at  Portsmouth,  and  of  Jeremiah  Ma 
son's  connection  with  it,  was  one  relating  to  a  case 
in  which  a  man  named  Bramble  was  implicated. 
Matthew  Bramble,  it  appears,  was  a  wealthy  resi 
dent  of  Portsmouth,  and,  as  the  sequel  proved,  an 
unscrupulous  man.  His  social  position  was  good, 
but  a  feeling  of  distrust  towards  him  existed  in 
the  community.  It  seems  that  Bramble  had  given 
to  a  man  named  Brown  an  annuity  bond,  agreeing 
to  pay  him  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  as  long  as  he 
lived.  This  was  to  keep  dormant  a  title  to  some 
real  estate.  Bramble  had  more  than  once  tried  to 
persuade  Brown  to  take  a  "  lump  "  sum  of  money, 
and  cancel  the  bond ;  but  this  Brown  persistently 
declined  to  do,  and  in  this  he  was  supported  by  the 


68  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEB. 

advice  of  his  friends.  After  in  vain  offering  one 
thousand  dollars,  Bramble  resorted  to  the  following 
method  of  getting  rid  of  his  obligation.  He  was 
accustomed,  when  he  paid  the  hundred  dollars,  to 
endorse  it  on  the  bond.  The  next  chance  he  got,  he 
endorsed,  not  one  hundred  dollars,  but  one  thousand 
dollars,  adding,  "  in  full  consideration  of  and  cancel 
ling  this  bond."  Brown,  who  could  not  read  or 
write,  unsuspectingly  signed  his  mark  to  this  en 
dorsement.  Bramble  then  coolly  handed  him  back 
the  bond,  and  of  course  said  nothing  of  the  matter. 
When  the  year  came  round,  an  altercation  took 
place  between  them.  Bramble  said  :  "  I  owe  you 
nothing ;  I  paid  you  a  thousand  dollars,  and  it  is 
certified  on  your  bond."  Brown  was  a  poor  shoe 
maker  —  simple-minded,  truthful,  weak  —  not  ca 
pable  of  coping  with  this  wily  scamp.  He  was 
friendless,  while  Bramble  was  a  rich  man.  Poor 
Brown  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  had  con 
vinced  his  neighbors  that  he  was  right.  He  went 
to  Jeremiah  Mason,  who  told  him  he  was  Matthew 
Bramble's  lawyer.  Mr.  Mason  had  asked  Bramble 
about  the  matter,  and  the  latter  had  showed 
the  bond ;  and  Mr.  Mason  probably  believed  him. 
A  friend  then  advised  Brown  to  go  to  Mr.  Web 
ster  ;  and,  after  hearing  his  story,  Mr.  Webster 
was  quite  convinced  of  the  truth  of  Brown's  state 
ment.  He  had  no  confidence  in  Bramble.  In  re 
lating  the  story,  he  said  to  me :  "  I  knew  nothing 
positively  against  Bramble,  but  something  im 
pressed  me  that  he  was  not  a  man  of  honor.  I 
was  at  once  satisfied  that  he  had  committed  this 


AT  THE  BAR.  69 

fraud  upon  Brown,  and  I  told  the  latter  that  I 
would  sue  Bramble  for  the  annuity.  He  said  he 
had  nothing  to  give  me  in  payment.  I  said  I 
wanted  nothing.  I  sent  Bramble  a  letter,  and  he 
made  his  appearance  in  my  office. 

" '  I  should  like  to  know/  said  he  sharply,  '  if 
you  are  going  to  take  up  a  case  of  that  kind  in 
Portsmouth.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  don't  know 
on  which  side  your  bread  is  buttered/ 

" '  This  man  has  come  to  me,'  I  replied,  '  with 
out  friends,  and  has  told  me  a  plain,  straightforward 
story ;  and  it  sounds  as  if  it  were  true.  It  is  not 
a  made-up  story.  I  shall  pursue  this  thing  and  sue 
you,  unless  you  settle  it.' ' 

Bramble  went  to  Mr.  Mason,  who  afterwards  said 
to  Mr.  Webster :  "  I  think  you  have  made  a  mis 
take.  Bramble  is  a  man  of  influence.  It  can't  be 
that  the  fellow  tells  the  truth.  Bramble  would  not 
do  such  a  thing  as  that."  Mr.  Webster  replied  : 
"  He  has  done  just  such  a  thing  as  that,  and  I 
shall  try  the  suit." 

So  the  preliminary  steps  were  taken,  and  the 
suit  was  brought.  The  case  came  on  at  Exeter  in 
the  Supreme  Court,  Judge  Smith  on  the  bench. 
It  created  great  excitement.  Bramble's  friends 
were  incensed  at  the  charge  of  forgery;  but 
Brown,  too,  in  his  humble  way,  had  his  friends. 
Mr.  Webster  said  :  — 

"  I  never  in  my  life  was  more  badly  prepared 
for  a  case.  There  was  no  evidence  for  Brown,  and 
what  to  do  I  did  not  know.  But  I  had  begun  the 
suit,  and  was  going  to  run  for  luck,  perfectly  satis- 


70  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

fied  that  I  was  right.  There  were  Bramble  and 
his  friends,  with  Mason  ;  and  poor  Brown  only  had 
his  counsel.  And  Mason  began  to  sneer  a  little, 
saying,  '  That  is  a  foolish  case/ 

"  Well,  a  person  named  Love  joy  was  then  living 
in  Portsmouth ;  and  when  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
litigation,  as  there  was  in  Portsmouth  and  many 
towns  in  New  Hampshire,  there  will  always  be  one 
person  of  a  kind  not  easily  described,  —  a  shrewd 
man  who  was  mixed  up  in  all  sorts  of  affairs. 
Love  joy  was  a  man  of  this  kind,  and  was  a  witness 
in  nearly  all  the  cases  ever  tried  in  that  section. 
He  was  an  imperturbable  witness,  and  never  could 
be  shaken  in  his  testimony.  Call  Love  joy,  and  he 
would  swear  that  he  was  present  on  such  an  occa 
sion  ;  and  he  seemed  to  live  by  giving  evidence  in 
this  way.  I  was  getting  a  little  anxious  about  the 
case.  I  was  going  to  attempt  to  prove  that  Brown 
had  been  appealed  to  by  Bramble  for  years  to  give 
up  his  bond,  and  take  a  sum  of  money,  and  that 
he  had  always  stoutly  refused ;  that  he  had  no 
uses  for  money,  and  had  never  been  in  the  receipt 
of  money ;  and  that  he  could  not  write  and  was 
easily  imposed  upon.  But  although  I  felt  that  I 
was  right,  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should  lose  the 
case. 

"  A  Portsmouth  man,  who  believed  in  Brown's 
story,  came  to  me  just  before  the  case  was  called, 
and  whispered  in  my  ear :  '  I  saw  Lovejoy  talking 
with  Bramble  just  now  in  the  entry,  and  he  took 
a  paper  from  him/  I  thanked  the  man,  told  him 
that  was  a  pretty  important  thing  to  know,  and 


AT   THE  BAR.  71 

asked  him  to  say  nothing  about  it.  In  the  course 
of  the  trial,  Mr.  Mason  called  Love  joy,  and  he  took 
the  oath.  He  went  upon  the  stand  and  testified 
that  some  eight  or  ten  months  before  he  was  in 
Brown's  shop,  and  that  Brown  mended  his  shoes 
for  him.  As  he  was  sitting  in  the  shop,  he  natu 
rally  fell  into  conversation  about  the  bond,  and 
said  to  Brown :  6  Bramble  wants  to  get  back  the 
bond,  —  why  don't  you  sell  it  to  him  ?  '  '  Oh/ 
said  Brown,  '  I  have ;  he  wanted  me  to  do  it,  and, 
as  life  is  uncertain,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  take 
the  thousand  dollars/  He  went  on  to  testify  that 
the  '  said  Brown '  told  him  so  and  so ;  and  when 
he  expressed  himself  in  that  way,  I  knew  he  was 
being  prompted  from  a  written  paper.  The  ex 
pression  was  an  unnatural  one  for  a  man  to  use  in 
ordinary  conversation.  It  occurred  to  me  in  an 
instant  that  Bramble  had  given  Love  joy  a  paper, 
on  which  was  set  down  what  he  wanted  him  to 
testify.  There  sat  Mason,  full  of  assurance,  and 
for  a  moment  I  hesitated.  Now,  I  thought,  I  will 
'  make  a  spoon  or  spoil  a  horn  ! '  I  took  the  pen 
from  behind  my  ear,  drew  myself  up,  and  marched 
outside  of  the  bar  to  the  witness-stand.  '  Sir  ! '  I 
exclaimed  to  Lovejoy,  '  give  me  the  paper  from 
which  you  are  testifying  ! '  In  an  instant  he  pulled 
it  out  of  his  pocket ;  but  before  he  had  it  quite  out, 
he  hesitated  and  attempted  to  put  it  back.  I  seized 
it  in  triumph.  There  was  his  testimony  in  Bram 
ble's  handwriting !  Mr.  Mason  got  up  and  claimed 
the  protection  of  the  court.  Judge  Smith  inquired 
the  meaning  of  this  proceeding.  I  said :  '  Provi- 


72  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

dence  protects  the  innocent  when  they  are  friend 
less.  I  think  I  could  satisfy  the  court  and  my 
learned  brother,  who,  of  course,  was  ignorant  of 
this  man's  conduct,  that  I  hold  in  Mr.  Bramble's 
handwriting  the  testimony  of  the  very  respectable 
witness  who  is  on  the  stand.'  The  court  adjourned, 
and  I  had  nothing  further  to  do.  Mason  told  his 
client  that  he  had  better  settle  the  affair  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Bramble  came  to  my  office,  and  as 
he  entered,  I  said :  '  Don't  you  come  in  here  !  I 
don't  want  any  thieves  in  my  office.'  '  Do  what 
ever  you  please  with  me,  Mr.  Webster,'  he  replied  ; 
*  I  will  do  whatever  you  say.'  ( I  will  do  nothing 
without  witnesses  —  we  must  arrange  this  matter.' 
I  consulted  Mr.  Mason,  and  he  said  he  did  not  care 
how  I  settled  it.  So  I  told  Bramble  that,  in  the 
first  place,  there  must  be  a  new  life-bond  for  one 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  ample  security  for  its 
payment ;  and  that  he  must  also  pay  Brown  five 
hundred  dollars,  and  my  fees,  which  I  should  charge 
pretty  roundly.  To  all  this  he  assented,  and  thus 
the  case  ended." 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  this  at  Exeter.  We  went 
over  there  from  Portsmouth,  dined,  and  went  to 
the  academy,  where  he  had  fitted  himself  for  col 
lege,  and  to  the  court-house,  where  this  Bramble 
trial  took  place.  After  dinner  he  took  his  nap, 
and,  while  he  was  in  his  room,  several  old  men 
who  were  in  the  hotel  came  to  me  and  said  they 
had  known  Mr.  Webster  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  and"  that  they  should  like  to  see  him.  I  said  : 
"  Certainly,  after  he  finishes  his  nap."  So  when 


AT   THE   BAR.  73 

he  got  up,  I  said :  "  These  old  men  -would  like 
to  speak  to  you."  He  came  out  into  the  bar 
room,  received  them  cordially,  and  was  evidently 
very  glad  to  see  them.  They  talked  over  the 
events  of  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  with 
much  interest.  At  last  one  of  them  spoke  up 
and  said :  — 

"  Would  you  have  any  objection,  Mr.  Webster, 
to  answering  a  question  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"Do  you  remember  the  case  of  Bramble  and 
Brown,  the  shoemaker  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  Well,  how  did  you  know  that  Love  joy  had  that 
paper  in  his  pocket  ?  We  have  been  thinking  of 
that  ever  since,  and  I  was  determined,  if  I  ever 
saw  you,  to  ask  you  how  it  was."  After  a  hearty 
laugh,  Mr.  Webster  satisfied  their  curiosity. 

Mr.  Webster's  high  respect  for  Mr.  Mason's 
judgment  is  evinced  in  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to 
him  in  February,  1824,  in  which  the  following 
passage  occurs :  "  Of  the  compliments  my  Greek 
speech  has  received,  I  value  your  letter  more  than 
all ;  for  although  you  say,  of  course,  as  much  as 
you  think,  I  presume  your  real  opinion  is  so  favor 
able  that  you  believe  the  speech  reputable.  I  am 
quite  satisfied  with  that." 

Mr.  Webster  delivered  a  eulogy  on  Jeremiah 
Mason  before  the  Suffolk  Bar,  in  which  he  said  : 

"  The  proprieties  of  this  occasion  compel  me, 
with  whatever  reluctance,  to  refrain  from  the  in 
dulgence  of  the  personal  feelings  which  arise  in  my 


74  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

heart,  upon  the  death  of  one  with  whom  I  have 
cultivated  a  sincere,  affectionate,  and  unbroken 
friendship,  from  the  day  when  I  first  commenced 
my  professional  career,  to  the  closing  hour  of  his 
life.  I  will  not  say  of  the  advantages  which  I 
have  derived  from  his  intercourse  and  conversa 
tion,  all  that  Mr.  Fox  said  of  Edmund  Burke ;  but 
I  am  bound  to  say,  that  of  my  own  professional 
discipline  and  attainments,  whatever  they  may  be, 
I  owe  much  to  that  close  attention  to  the  discharge 
of  my  duties  which  I  was  compelled  to  pay,  for 
nine  successive  years,  from  day  to  day,  by  Mr. 
Mason's  efforts  at  the  same  bar.  Fas  est  ab  hoste 
doceri ;  and  I  must  have  been  unintelligent,  in 
deed,  not  to  have  learned  something  from  the 
constant  displays  of  that  power  which  I  had  so 
much  occasion  to  see  and  feel." 

But  few  anecdotes  of  Mr.  Webster's  manner  at 
the  bar  in  examining  witnesses  and  meeting  the 
assaults  of  his  adversaries  have  been  recorded. 
Many  pleasing  incidents  of  his  life  as  an  advocate 
still  exist  in  the  memories  of  living  men ;  but  for 
want  of  a  scribe  they  are  likely  to  be  forgotten. 
When  Mr.  Webster,  in  company  with  Professor 
Ticknor,  paid  a  visit  to  ex-President  Madison  in 
1824,  Mr.  Madison  remarked,  in  conversation,  that 
he  had  often,  in  his  public  life,  received  credit  for 
more  wisdom  than  he  really  possessed ;  and  yet 
the  circumstances  in  any  given  case  seemed  fairly 
to  warrant  the  public  in  forming  their  estimate  of 
his  abilities.  Mr.  Webster  replied  that  the  same 
thing  had  undoubtedly  happened  to  every  man 


AT  THE  BAR.  75 

engaged  in  public  affairs.  The  same  had  been 
true  of  himself.  He  said  that,  in  the  first  years 
of  his  professional  life,  a  blacksmith  called  on 
him  for  advice  respecting  the  title  to  a  small 
estate  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  father.  The 
terms  of  the  will  were  peculiar,  and  the  kind  of 
estate  transmitted  was  doubtful.  An  attempt  had 
been  made  to  annul  the  will.  Mr.  Webster  ex 
amined  the  case,  but  was  unable  to  give  a  definite 
opinion  upon  the  matter  for  want  of  authorities. 
He  looked  through  the  law  libraries  of  Mr.  Mason 
and  other  legal  gentlemen  for  authorities,  but  in 
vain.  He  ascertained  what  works  he  needed  for 
consultation,  and  ordered  them  from  Boston  at  an 
expense  of  fifty  dollars.  He  spent  the  leisure  hours 
of  some  weeks  in  going  through  them.  He  success 
fully  argued  the  case  when  it  came  on  for  trial ;  and 
it  was  decided  in  his  favor.  The  blacksmith  was 
in  ecstasies ;  for  his  little  all  had  been  at  stake. 
He  called  for  his  attorney's  bill.  Mr.  Webster, 
knowing  his  poverty,  charged  him  only  fifteen 
dollars,  intending  to  suffer  the  loss  of  money  paid 
out,  and  to  lose  the  time  expended  in  securing  the 
verdict.  Years  passed  away,  and  the  case  was  for 
gotten  ;  but  not  the  treasured  knowledge  by  which 
it  was  won.  On  one  of  his  journeys  to  Washington, 
Mr.  Webster  spent  a  few  days  in  New  York  city. 
While  he  was  there,  Aaron  Burr  waited  on  him  for 
advice  in  a  very  important  case,  then  pending  in  the 
State  court.  He  told  him  the  facts  on  which  it  was 
founded.  Mr.  Webster  saw,  in  a  moment,  that  it 
was  an  exact  counterpart  to  the  blacksmith's  will 


76  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

case.  On  being  asked  if  he  could  state  the  law 
applicable  to  it,  he  at  once  replied  that  he  could. 
He  proceeded  to  quote  decisions  bearing  upon  the 
case,  going  back  to  the  time  of  Charles  II.  As  he 
went  on  with  his  array  of  principles  and  authori 
ties,  all  cited  with  the  precision  and  order  of  a 
table  of  contents,  Mr.  Burr  arose  in  astonishment, 
and  asked,  with  some  warmth  :  — 

66  Mr.  Webster,  have  you  been  consulted  before 
in  this  case  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  not,"  he  replied.  "  I  never 
heard  of  your  case  till  this  evening." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Burr,  "  proceed." 

Mr.  Webster  concluded  the  rehearsal  of  his  au 
thorities,  and  received  from  Mr.  Burr  the  warmest 
praise  of  his  profound  knowledge  of  the  law,  and 
a  fee  large  enough  to  remunerate  him  for  all  the 
time  and  trouble  spent  on  the  blacksmith's  case. 

The  following  anecdote  relates  to  the  period  of 
Mr.  Webster's  practice  at  the  Portsmouth  bar.  It 
appears  that,  some  years  before,  a  certain  teamster, 
named  John  Greenough,  living  in  Graf  ton  County, 
who  was  in  the  habit  of  stopping  at  Ebenezer  Web 
ster's  house  on  his  way  to  and  from  Boston,  had  on 
a  certain  occasion  come  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the 
house,  and  could  get  no  further,  owing  to  the  weight 
of  his  load  and  the  badness  of  the  roads.  He  there 
upon  sent  to  Colonel  Webster,  and  begged  the  loan 
of  a  span  of  horses.  "  Dan  "  was  at  once  sent  back 
with  the  horses.  He  was  roughly  dressed,  wearing 
an  old  straw  hat,  and  looking  the  stalwart  country 
lad  that  he  was.  The  teamster  thanked  him  for 


AT   THE  BAR.  77 

coming  to  his  assistance,  and  proceeded  on  his  way, 
and  "  Dan  "  was  soon  out  of  his  thoughts.  Years 
after,  the  incident  was  recalled  to  his  mind  under 
these  circumstances :  The  teamster  had  been 
brought  into  litigation  on  account  of  a  question 
respecting  the  title  to  his  farm.  His  whole  prop 
erty  was  staked  in  the  case.  He  engaged  Moses  P. 
Payson,  of  Bath,  as  his  counsel ;  but,  being  very 
anxious  about  the  result,  he  allowed  Mr.  Payson  to 
associate  another  lawyer  with  him.  A  few  days 
after,  the  teamster  was  told  that  Mr.  Webster  had 
been  engaged.  He  remarked  that  he  did  not 
know  any  lawyer  of  that  name,  and  asked  if  he 
was  from  Boston.  "  No,"  replied  Mr.  Payson ;  "  he 
is  Daniel  Webster,  son  of  old  Ebenezer,  of  Salis 
bury."  "  What !  "  exclaimed  the  teamster,  "  that 
little  black  stable-boy  that  once  brought  me  some 
horses !  Then  I  think  we  might  as  well  give  up 
the  case."  He  was  told  that  the  trial  could  not 
be  postponed,  and  that  they  must  make  the  best 
of  it.  The  case  was  duly  called.  The  teamster, 
with  a  gloomy  countenance,  took  his  place  in  court. 
When  his  turn  came,  Mr.  Webster  rose  to  make 
the  closing  plea.  The  teamster  looked  at  him  with 
a  kind  of  idle  curiosity,  and  something  like  con 
tempt;  but  as  his  advocate  proceeded  with  his 
argument,  and  brought  the  powers  of  his  great 
mind  to  bear  upon  the  subject,  the  man  became 
wrapt  up  in  his  words,  and  gradually  drew  nearer 
to  where  he  was  standing.  He  listened  with 
breathless  attention  until  Mr.  Webster  closed ; 
when  Mr.  Payson  turned  and  asked,  — 


78  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  now  ?  " 
"Think!"  exclaimed  the  teamster.     "Why,  I 
think  he  is  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to  save 
me   from  ruin,  and  my  wife  and  children   from 
misery ! " 

The  case  was  won  in  due  course,  and  the  team 
ster  returned  home  triumphant  and  happy. 


UNIVERSITY 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AT  THE    BAR.  —  CONTINUED. 

MR.  WEBSTER,  in  reflecting  upon  his  qualities  as 
a  lawyer,  was  convinced  that  they  did  not  lie  in 
the  direction  of  the  bench.  His  talents,  he  saw, 
were  less  judicial  than  forensic.  He  wrote  to  a 
friend,1  in  1840,  as  follows:  "For  my  own  part, 
I  could  never  be  a  judge.  There  never  was  a  time 
when  I  would  have  taken  the  office  of  chief  jus 
tice  of  the  United  States,  or  any  other  judicial 
station.  I  believe  the  truth  may  be  that  I  have 
mixed  so  much  study  of  politics  with  my  study  of 
law,  that,  though  I  have  some  respect  for  myself 
as  an  advocate,  and  some  estimate  of  my  knowl 
edge  of  general  principles,  yet  I  am  not  confident 
of  possessing  all  the  accuracy  and  precision  of 
knowledge  which  the  bench  requires." 

His  main  strength  as  a  lawyer,  indeed,  rested 
upon  his  "knowledge  of  general  principles." 
He  read  books  in  early  life,  and  treasured  in  his 
mind  the  great  maxims  of  the  law  and  the  famous 
decisions  which  largely  control  and  direct  practice 
at  the  bar.  In  later  years  he  seldom  consulted 
authorities.  After  his  judgment  had  been  ma- 

1  Mr.  Ketchum. 


80  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

tured  by  severe  discipline,  lie  trusted  to  its  prompt 
ings.  In  difficult  cases  he  often  assumed  what  the 
law  must  be,  and  made  his  brief  accordingly.  He 
sometimes  wrote  down  the  positions  he  should  take 
and  the  heads  of  the  arguments  he  should  present, 
and  left  it  to  his  junior  counsel  to  look  up  the  au 
thorities.  He  was  seldom  at  fault  in  his  opinions 
of  the  law.  He  knew  better  what  the  law  must 
be  in  a  given  case  than  what  it  really  was  in  the 
reports.  Before  he  left  New  Hampshire,  he  had 
adopted,  to  some  extent,  this  self-reliant  method 
of  pleading.  He  sometimes  asked  for  the  recollec 
tions  of  a  brother  lawyer  about  a  legal  point,  as  he 
entered  the  court-room,  to  see  if  they  agreed  with 
his  own  impressions.  Parker  Noyes,  already  re 
ferred  to,  was  a  legal  oracle  in  the  New  Hampshire 
courts.  He  was  quite  as  often  consulted  as  Black- 
stone  by  members  of  the  bar.  In  one  instance,  at 
Plymouth,  Mr.  Webster  said  to  Mr.  Noyes :  — 

"  I  have  been  asked  to  take  charge  of  an  impor 
tant  case  to-day,  involving  such  and  such  princi 
ples.  I  have  no  authorities  at  hand,  but  I  shall 
assume  that  the  law  is  so  [stating  his  position].  Is 
this  right  ?  " 

"  It  is  right  in  substance,"  replied  Mr.  Noyes, 
u  but  I  doubt  as  to  details.  However,  you  will  not 
err  materially  if  you  state  the  law  in  your  own 
language." 

Mr.  Noyes  said  that,  on  recurring  to  his  authori 
ties,  he  found  that  Mr.  Webster  was  entirely  right. 

That  eminent  lawyer,  Samuel  Dexter,  of  Boston, 
had  a  mental  constitution  which  resembled  that  of 


AT   THE   BAR.  81 

Mr.  Webster.  In  1804,  while  studying  in  Mr. 
Gore's  office,  Mr.  Webster  wrote  down  his  opinion 
of  some  of  the  distinguished  characters  at  the 
Boston  bar.  Of  Dexter,  he  says  :  — 

"  He  is  not  a  great  student.  Early  attention 
has  stored  his  mind  with  an  immense  fund  of  gen 
eral  principles,  and  he  trusts  his  own  power  in  the 
application.  He  is  generally  opposed  in  causes 
to  Parsons,  and  their  contest  is  that  of  exalted 
minds." 

These  two  lawyers  sustained  to  each  other  a 
relation  similar  to  that  which  afterwards  existed, 
in  the  New  Hampshire  courts,  between  Webster 
and  Mason.  Parsons  and  Dexter  evidently  im 
pressed  the  young  student  with  their  manifest 
greatness.  He  drew  portraits  of  both  at  some 
length.  The  sketch  he  has  given  of  Parsons 
would  not  be  inapplicable  to  Mason.  He  says  : 

"  The  characteristic  endowments  of  his  mind  are 
strength  and  shrewdness ;  strength  which  enables 
him  to  support  his  cause,  shrewdness  by  which  he 
is  always  ready  to  retort  the  sallies  of  his  adver 
sary.  His  manner  is  steady,  forcible,  and  perfectly 
perspicuous.  He  does  not  address  the  jury  as  a 
mechanical  body,  to  be  put  in  motion  by  mechani 
cal  means.  He  appeals  to  them  as  men,  and  as 
having  minds  capable  of  receiving  the  ideas  in  his 
own.  Of  course  he  never  harangues.  He  is  never 
stinted  to  say  just  so  much  on  a  point,  and  no 
more.  He  knows  by  the  juror's  countenance  when 
he  is  convinced ;  and  therefore  never  disgusts  him 
by  arguing  that  of  which  he  is  already  sensible,  or 


82  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

which  he  knows  it  impossible  to  impress.  A  mind 
thus  strong,  direct,  prompt,  and  vigorous  is  culti 
vated  by  habits  of  the  most  intense  application.  A 
great  scholar  in  every  thing,  in  his  profession  he  is 
peculiarly  great.  He  is  not  content  with  shining 
on  occasions ;  he  will  shine  everywhere.  As  no 
cause  is  too  great,  none  is  too  small  for  him.  He 
knows  the  benefit  of  understanding  small  circum 
stances.  'Tis  not  enough  for  him  that  he  has 
learned  the  leading  points  of  a  cause ;  he  will 
know  every  thing.  His  argument  is,  therefore, 
consistent  with  itself,  and  its  course  is  so  luminous 
that  you  are  ready  to  wonder  why  any  one  should 
hesitate  to  follow  him.  Facts  which  are  uncertain 
he  with  so  much  art  connects  with  others  well 
proved  that  you  cannot  get  rid  of  the  former  with 
out  disregarding  also  the  latter.  He  has  no  fond 
ness  for  public  life,  and  is  satisfied  with  standing 
where  he  is,  —  at  the  head  of  his  profession." 

This  youthful  sketch  reveals  the  accurate  judg 
ment  and  clear  statement  of  facts  which  marked 
Mr.  Webster  in  his  maturity.  It  shows,  too,  the 
high  estimate  he  then  set  on  superior  talents  in  his 
profession.  The  men  whom  he  described,  as  the  di 
version  of  a  leisure  hour,  in  a  commonplace  book 
of  daily  expenses,  were  undoubtedly  his  models. 
He  studied  them  at  the  bar  and  in  private  life. 
He  was  impressed  with  their  eminent  abilities 
and  their  unquestioned  success ;  and  thus  com 
pares  the  two  great  champions  of  city  practice 
at  that  time  :  — 

"  In   point    of   character,   Dexter   undoubtedly 


AT  THE  BAR.  83 

stands  next  to  Parsons  at  the  Boston  bar;  and 
in  the  neighboring  counties  and  States,  I  suppose, 
he  stands  above  him.  He  has  a  strong,  general 
izing,  capacious  mind.  He  sees  his  subject  in  one 
view ;  and  in  that  view,  single  and  alone,  he 
presents  it  to  the  contemplation  of  his  hearer. 
Unable  to  follow  Parsons  in  minute,  technical  dis 
tinctions,  Parsons  is  unable  to  follow  him  in  the 
occasional  vaultings  and  boundings  of  his  mind. 
Unlike  Parsons,  too,  he  cannot  be  great  on  little 
occasions.  Unlike  him,  Parsons  cannot  reject  every 
little  consideration  on  great  occasions.  Parsons 
begins  with  common  maxims,  and  his  course  to 
the  particular  subject  and  the  particular  conclusion 
brightens  and  shines  more  and  more  clearly  to  its 
end.  Dexter  begins  with  the  particular  position 
which  he  intends  to  support;  darkness  surrounds 
him  ;  no  one  knows  the  path  by  which  he  arrived 
at  his  conclusion.  Around  him,  however,  is  a  circle 
of  light  when  he  opens  his  mouth.  Like  a  con 
flagration  seen  at  a  distance,  the  evening  mists  may 
intervene  between  it  and  the  eye  of  the  observer, 
although  the  blaze  ascend  to  the  sky  and  cannot 
but  be  seen." 

Many  years  after  this  minute  comparison  be 
tween  the  rival  giants  of  the  Boston  bar  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century  was  written,  Mr.  Webster 
told  me  that  he  regarded  Chief  Justice  Parsons  as 
one  of  the  greatest  men  New  England  had  produced, 
and  laid  special  stress  on  his  eminence  as  a  judge. 
He  said  that  while  the  Massachusetts  Convention  to 
adopt  the  Constitution  was  in  session,  and  a  doubt 


84  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

rested  on  the  whole  question,  Governor  Hancock, 
whose  influence  and  opinions  had  great  weight 
with  his  friends  in  the  convention,  was  ill,  and  did 
not  attend  its  sessions  until  near  the  close  of  the 
debates.  There  were  two  parties,  nearly  equal  in 
numbers,  and  there  was  some  doubt  as  to  which 
side  Hancock  would  espouse.  Near  the  close  of 
the  session,  however,  he  read  a  speech  in  favor  of 
adopting  the  Constitution,  and  voted  in  accordance 
with  it.  This  turned  the  scale,  and  a  majority  sus 
tained  the  Constitution.  After  Hancock's  death, 
his  papers  were  examined ;  and  when  this  speech 
was  found,  it  turned  out  to  be  written,  from  begin 
ning  to  end,  in  the  handwriting  of  Chief  Justice 
Parsons. 

I  have  in  my  possession  several  small  memoran 
dum  books  in  which  Mr.  Webster  jotted  down,  from 
time  to  time,  a  desultory  diary,  various  notes,  and 
accounts.  One  of  these  contains  a  curious  record  of 
the  fees  he  received  during  several  of  the  most  ac 
tive  years  of  his  practice.  They  may  be  compared 
with  the  much  larger  fees  which  the  first  lawyers 
receive  in  these  later  days.  I  find  that,  in  the  year 
ending  September,  1834,  his  fees  amounted  to  the 
sum  of  $13,140;  in  1835,  to  $15,183.74;  and  in 
1836.  to  $21,793.  Here  Mr.  Webster's  accounts 
stop,  he  having  only  jotted  down  his  fees  from  Sep 
tember,  1834,  to  February,  1837.  It  must  be  added 
that  these  sums  included  his  Congressional  pay.  The 
highest  fee  recorded  during  this  period  was  $7,500, 
"  in  the  New  Orleans  case ;  "  the  next  highest  is 
of  $3,000,  "  in  Florida  land  case,  instead  of  land ; " 


AT   THE  BAR.  85 

the  next,  of  $2,250,  in  case  of  the  United  States 
Bank  ;  and  there  is  one  of  $2,000.  The  smallest 
fee  recorded  is  of  $20,  which  I  find  twice  in  the 
account ;  and  the  fees  range  generally  between 
that  sum  and  $500. 

Mr.  Webster  was  fond  of  talking  about  the  im 
portant  cases  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  and 
especially  of  those  which  enabled  him  to  bring  out 
striking  events  and  curious  anecdotes.  He  always 
narrated  their  circumstances,  not  only  with  graphic 
minuteness,  but  with  great  spirit  and  zest.  Many 
a  time  has  he  entertained  me  with  these  stories  of 
the  bar,  in  which  he  was  most  often  the  chief 
figure  ;  and  I  am  able  to  give  some  of  the  most 
interesting  almost  in  his  own  language. 

Few  cases  have  excited  more  attention  than 
that  of  John  Sanborn  against  the  administrators  of 
Nathan  Tufts,  of  Charlestown.  It  had  been  tried 
once,  Jeremiah  Mason  and  Rufus  Choate  having 
been  the  counsel,  and  the  verdict  had  been  set 
aside.  In  the  second  trial  Mr.  Webster  was  asso 
ciated  with  Mr.  Choate.  The  character  of  the  par 
ties  lent  added  interest  to  the  case,  especially  in 
Charlestown,  where  they  lived.  Nathan  Tufts  was 
a  rich,  retired  tanner,  who,  having  lived  to  a  great 
age,  died  childless.  His  estate  was  found  to  be 
worth  nearly  half  a  million.  He  had  a  coachman, 
who  was  also  a  man-of -all-work,  named  John  San- 
born.  Sanborn  had  lived  with  Mr.  Tufts  twenty- 
five  years,  and  everybody  in  Charlestown  was 
familiar  with  him  as  "  Mr.  Tufts'  man."  He 
bought  the  provisions,  drove  the  coach,  settled 


86  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

the  household  bills,  and  was  one  of  those  domes 
tics  who  are  indispensable. 

Sanborn  received  small  wages,  and,  as  he  had  a 
family,  he  had  several  times  threatened  to  leave 
Mr.  Tufts  and  go  West  to  better  his  fortunes. 
Mr.  Tufts  said  he  must  not  leave,  that  he  would 
see  that  he  was  cared  for,  &c. ;  and  Sanborn  con 
tinued  with  him  till  his  death,  and  indeed  closed 
his  eyes.  It  was  well  understood  in  Charlestown 
that  Sanborn  would  be  remembered  in  Tufts'  will. 
The  old  gentleman  had  no  very  near  relatives,  only 
some  nephews  and  nieces,  for  whom  he  cared  very 
little.  But,  when  the  will  was  opened,  Sanborn' s 
name  did  not  appear  in  it  at  all;  and  in  a  place 
like  Charlestown,  where  such  things  are  the  sub 
ject  of  general  conversation  and  remark,  it  is  not 
singular  that  there  was  a  general  expression  of 
indignation  at  the  ingratitude  of  Mr.  Tufts,  who 
had  left  this  large  estate  to  remote  heirs,  and  given 
nothing  to  the  faithful  Sanborn.  No  one  joined 
more  heartily  in  the  cry  of  ingratitude  than  San 
born  himself.  He  went  about  complaining  of  Mr. 
Tufts'  conduct.  He  had  spent  his  life  in  his  ser 
vice,  fully  expecting  that  his  wages  were  but  a 
part  of  the  consideration.  Mr.  J.  P.  Cook  was  ihe 
administrator  of  the  will,  and  drew  it  up.  He  was 
a  careful,  painstaking  lawyer,  and  had  the  will  sent 
up  and  proved  in  due  form ;  and  the  thing  went 
so  far  that  the  heirs  discussed  among  themselves 
the  propriety  of  giving  Sanborn  five  or  six 
thousand  dollars,  feeling  that  more  ought  to  be 
done  for  him.  Finally,  in  about  a  year  after  Mr. 


AT   THE  BAR.  87 

Tufts'  death,  the  story  being  then  a  little  old,  San- 
born  suddenly  ceased  his  complaints,  and  brought 
forward  a  claim  in  the  form  of  a  note  of  hand  from 
Tufts,  to  pay  him  ten  thousand  dollars  one  year 
after  death,  and  to  deed  to  him  the  house  and  land 
on  which  he  lived,  worth  ten  thousand  dollars  more. 
The  administrator  refused  to  recognize  these  claims, 
and  a  suit  was  brought  by  Mr.  Choate  to  recover 
the  value  of  this  land  from  him,  and  of  this  ten 
thousand  dollar  note.  The  administrator  set  up 
forgery  as  his  defence,  relying  upon  the  circumstan 
ces  of  the  case,  the  improbability  of  the  thing,  and 
the  denial  of  Sanborn  that  he  had  done  any  thing 
to  deserve  so  much.  The  suit  was  tried  in  the  Su 
preme  Court  in  Boston,  and  Mr.  Choate,  junior 
counsel,  employed  Mr.  Mason  to  argue  it.  The 
jury  gave  a  verdict  for  Sanborn  for  the  whole 
amount ;  but  the  verdict  was  set  aside  by  the  full 
bench  as  against  the  law  and  the  evidence.  When 
it  came  to  a  new  trial,  Mr.  Webster  was  employed 
by  Mr.  Choate  to  take  Mr.  Mason's  place.  It  was 
a  question  involving  more  than  the  mere  sum  of 
money  claimed ;  for  the  same  decision  that  rejected 
the  suit  declared  Sanborn  a  forger.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  excitement,  there  being  a  wide-spread 
feeling  of  sympathy  for  Sanborn  on  one  side,  and 
some  suspicion  of  foul  play  on  the  other.  Mr. 
Samuel  Hoar  managed  the  suit  —  with  Mr.  Cook 
himself,  and  Mr.  Peabody,  an  old  black-letter,  tech 
nical  lawyer  —  for  the  defence.  I  attended  the 
trial,  and  heard  the  evidence  and  Mr.  Webster's 
argument.  Choate,  as  usual,  was  nervous.  There 


88  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

was  a  large  mass  of  evidence  on  both  sides  by 
experts,  as  to  the  genuineness  of  the  signatures. 
There  was  the  testimony  of  bank  directors,  who 
were  familiar  with  Mr.  Tufts'  handwriting,  and  of 
other  people  who  had  had  dealings  with  him.  Some 
said  that  the  signature  to  the  note  was  genuine, 
and  others  declared  it  was  not ;  it  was  for  the  jury 
to  decide.  The  whole  case  turned  upon  that.  The 
incidents  connected  with  the  trial  are  quite  fresh 
in  my  mind ;  and  they  were  very  interesting  from 
the  fact  that,  pending  the  examination  of  witnesses, 
Mr.  Choate  was  very  nervous,  and  said  he  did  not 
think  Mr.  Webster  felt  much  interest  in  the  case. 
He  was  afraid  he  would  not  argue  it  well.  The 
evidence  was  closed  on  both  sides  on  a  Wednesday 
afternoon,  when  the  court  adjourned.  The  next 
day  was  Thanksgiving  day,  and  the  arguments 
were  reserved  for  Friday  and  Saturday.  Mr. 
Choate  said :  — 

"Mr.  Webster,  where  can  we  meet  to-morrow 
to  talk  over  the  case  ? " 

"  I  am  going  to  Mr.  Paige's  to  dine,"  he  replied, 
"  and  we  will  talk  it  over  there." 

Mr.  Choate  hurried  up  to  Mr.  Paige's  the  next 
day,  and  began  almost  at  once  to  talk  about  the 
case. 

"  Mr.  Choate,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  the  governor 
of  the  Commonwealth  has  rather  required  us  to 
abstain  from  all  unnecessary  labor  to-day,  and  give 
our  time  to  other  topics  of  thought  and  reflection ; 
and  upon  the  whole  I  think  we  had  better  comply 
with  his  request."  Mr.  Choate  was  nervous,  but 


AT   THE   BAR. 

saw  that  he  could  have  no  consultation 
course  of  the  argument.  He  went  home  and  said 
to  his  wife :  "  I  am  sorry  I  am  not  going  to  argue 
that  case  myself,  because  I  find  that  Mr.  Webster 
don't  care  any  thing  about  it."  Choate  was  full 
of  enthusiasm :  his  whole  mind  and  soul  and 
strength  were  given  to  his  client. 

When  the  case  was  resumed,  Mr.  Hoar  made  the 
final  argument  for  the  defence,  and  Mr.  Webster 
was  to  close  for  the  plaintiff.  Mr.  Hoar  spoke 
from  nine  o'clock  until  one.  Mr.  Webster  said 
that  he  would  finish  the  argument  with  an  hour 
then,  and  the  rest  in  the  afternoon.  Judge 
Shaw  remarked  that  they  preferred  to  sit  in  the 
evening.  So  Mr.  Webster  began  to  speak  an  hour 
before  adjournment.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  head, 
tossed  about  irregularly,  got  names  wrong,  and 
seemed  to  wander.  There  sat  Mr.  Choate,  as  ner 
vous  as  if  mad  dogs  were  at  his  heels,  twitching 
about  in  his  seat,  and  alternately  watching  Mr. 
Webster  and  the  jury.  The  court  adjourned  at 
two  o'clock.  I  was  then  boarding  at  the  Tremont 
House,  as  was  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Hoar.  Mr. 
Webster  did  not  come  to  dinner.  I  met  Mr.  Hoar 
as  he  came  in,  and  said  he  to  me :  — 

"  You  have  been  listening  to  this  case  pretty 
attentively :  did  you  think  Mr.  Webster  opened 
his  argument  with  much  spirit,  or  with  his  usual 
ability  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  he  got  on  very  brilliantly  to  start 
with,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  it 's  an  awful  case.     There 's 


90  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

nothing  in  his  side  of  it ;  but  then,  sir,  you  can't 
tell  what  he  will  do  before  he  gets  through.  I 
never  predict  till  after  the  game  is  run  to  cover." 

Mr.  Webster  came  into  court  at  three  o'clock,  a 
totally  different  man.  He  had  an  air  that  said, 
"  Now  the  work  is  to  be  done  !  "  He  pulled  off  his 
overshoes,  threw  his  coat  over  the  back  of  a  chair, 
took  up  his  notes,  and  began  the  argument  of  the 
case  in  dead  earnest.  Choate  said  afterwards  that 
he  never  heard  Webster  argue  a  case  better. 
Nothing  ever  impressed  me  more  with  his  power 
than  that  argument. 

There  are  some  points  in  taking  testimony  that 
no  other  living  man  could  seize  and  grasp  like  Mr. 
Webster.  It  was  necessary  for  Sanborn's  counsel 
to  have  a  theory  about  his  denials  for  a  whole 
twelvemonth.  The  theory  was  that  Mr.  Tufts,  on 
the  last  night  of  his  life,  when  Sanborn  was  watch 
ing  with  him, broached  the  subject  of  his  will;  and 
that  he  said  :  "  Well,  John,  you  have  been  a  faith 
ful  servant  to  me,  and  I  ought  to  reward  you  for 
it ;  if  you  will  go  and  write  an  obligation,  to  give 
you  the  place  where  you  live,  and  a  note  of  hand 
for  ten  thousand  dollars,  I  will  sign  them,  on  one 
condition :  that  you  agree  not  to  present  them 
for  a  year  after  my  death.  1  want  my  memory 
to  be  undisturbed  for  a  year."  John  promised 
that  he  would  keep  the  matter  secret,  and  received 
the  obligations. 

Still,  it  was  a  pretty  hard  matter  to  get  over. 
The  question  would  arise,  "  How  happened  San- 
born  to  cry,  and  to  say  hard  things  of  Mr.  T  Lifts  ?  " 


AT  THE  BAR.  91 

Mr.  Webster  asked  all  the  witnesses  who  testi 
fied  to  conversations  of  that  sort  on  the  part  of 
Sanborn :  "  You  say  Sanborn  told  you  that  Mr. 
Tufts  had  not  left  him  any  thing ;  that  was  in 
answer  to  a  question  from  you,  wras  it  not?" 
u  Yes,  sir,"  would  be  the  reply.  When  that  part 
of  the  testimony  was  reached  in  Mr.  Webster's 
argument,  he  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  in  every 
instance  the  witnesses  for  the  defence,  who  were 
there  to  swear  to  the  denials  of  Sanborn  that  he 
had  received  any  thing,  admitted  that  the  matter 
was  extorted  from  him.  The  question  being,  "  Did 
Mr.  Tufts  leave  you  any  thing  ? "  he  was  bound 
to  fib  a  little ;  he  did  not  volunteer  to  say  these 
things,  and  only  said  them  when  he  was  forced  to 
do  so,  in  order  not  to  violate  his  pledge  to  Mr. 
Tufts. 

Mr.  Hoar  rose  and  begged  Mr.  Webster's  par 
don  :  "  There  was  no  such  testimony  in  the  case." 

Mr.  Webster  replied  that  he  would  refer  the 
matter  to  the  judge's  notes;  and  there  the  judge 
found  a  minute  of  the  evidence  as  stated  by  Mr. 
Webster  in  each  one  of  the  twenty  cases. 

Mr.  Hoar,  in  arguing  the  case,  said  that  it  was 
absurd  that  a  man  in  his  right  mind,  who  was 
dying,  and  with  the  age  and  experience  which  Mr. 
Tufts  had,  should  make  so  silly  a  request,  —  that 
the  note  be  kept  secret  a  year.  "  What  difference 
did  it  make  to  Mr.  Tufts  ?  It  was  a  lie  on  the  face 
of  it !  What  difference  was  there  to  a  dying  man 
between  a  minute  and  a  million  years  ?  "  The 
question  was  put  with  all  Mr.  Hoar's  power,  and 


92  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

evidently  had  its  effect  upon  the  jury.  When 
Mr.  Webster  came  to  reply,  he  said  he  was  only 
surprised  that  such  an  argument  should  come  from 
such  a  source.  "  <  What  difference  did  it  make  ? ' 
is  asked,  as  though  there  could  be  no  difference. 
Why,  the  fact  is  just  the  other  way.  Men  who 
have  unimpaired  senses  and  faculties,  and  are 
about  to  leave  the  world,  do  things  every  day 
which  connect  them  with  this  world  after  they  are 
gone.  They  take  an  interest  in  what  is  to  follow 
their  death.  The  very  first  professional  act  of  my 
life,"  continued  Mr.  Webster,  "when  I  was  a  young 
lawyer  in  New  Hampshire,  was  to  make  a  will  for 
a  strong-minded,  sensible  farmer,  —  a  neighbor  of 
my  father.  He  was  on  his  death-bed,  with  all 
his  senses  about  him.  I  took  down  the  conditions 
of  his  will,  —  so  much  for  such  a  child,  and  such  a 
provision  for  the  widow  ;  and  finally  he  said,  '  I 
wish  to  have  such  a  field  planted  next  spring  with 
a  certain  kind  of  corn.'  I  threw  down  my  pen, 
and  asked  him  if  that  might  not  better  be  left  to 
those  who  would  own  it.  '  No,'  cried  he,  '  it  is  my 
will ! '  What  difference  did  it  make  to  that  man 
what  his  heirs  should  sow  in  that  field  ?  How 
many  people  provide  for  the  erection  of  costly 
monuments  after  they  are  dead  ?  '  What  difference 
does  it  make  ? '  What  difference  will  it  make  to 
you,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  to  the  learned  chief 
justice,  to  my  learned  brother  on  the  other  side, 
or  to  me,  whether,  after  life  has  fled  this  mortal 
tenement,  our  poor  bodies  sleep  in  a  beautiful 
cemetery,  with  Christian  burial,  or  whiten  and 


AT  THE  BAR.  93 

bleach  upon  the  sands  of  the  seashore  ?  Certain 
is  it,  that  not  one  particle  will  be  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  trumpet  of  the  archangel,  which  will  call  us 
to  an  account  for  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  and 
among  those  deeds  the  manner  in  which  we  dis 
charge  our  duty  in  this  case." 

Mr.  Webster's  method  of  examining  witnesses 
may  be  judged  from  the  following  scene,  which 
occurred  in  this  case.  Among  the  witnesses  was 
a  bank  cashier,  to  whom  Mr.  Webster  said :  — 

"  You  say  you  think  this  is  not  Mr.  Tufts'  sig 
nature.  What  means  had  you  of  knowing  Mr. 
Tufts'  signature  ?  " 

"  I  was  cashier  of  the  bank  of  which  he  was 
president,  and  used  to  see  his  signature  in  all 
forms ;  and  very  often  to  obligations  and  notes 
and  bills." 

"  And  you  think  that  is  not  his  signature  ? 
Please  to  point  out,  if  you  will,  where  there  is 
a  discrepancy." 

"  I  do  not  know  as  I  can  tell." 

"  But  a  sensible  man  can  tell  why  he  thinks  one 
thing  is  not  like  another." 

"Well  [examining  the  note],  in  the  n  the  top 
used  to  be  closed." 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  hear :  the  top  was 
closed.  Go  on." 

"  The  s  at  the  end  of  his  name  was  usually  kept 
above  the  horizontal  line ;  this  is  below." 

"  Well ;  any  other  ?  " 

"  Not  any  other." 

Mr.  Webster  then  took  one  of  the  forty  genuine 


94  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

signatures  which  were  in  court,  and,  stating  to  the 
jury  that  it  was  admitted  to  be  genuine,  showed 
them  that  the  very  things  the  witness  had  testified 
Mr.  Tufts  never  did,  were  to  be  found  in  this  signa 
ture,  and  in  nearly  every  instance. 

The  witness  looked  chapfallen,  and  took  his  seat ; 
and  nearly  all  the  witnesses  were  floored  in  the 
same  way.  At  last  they  came  to  William  P.  Win 
chester.  He  sat  opposite  to  me,  and  looked  at  Mr. 
Webster  with  an  air  which  said,  "  You  won't  get 
any  such  answers  out  of  me."  He  took  the  stand, 
and  testified  that  he  did  not  think  the  signature 
genuine. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Webster. 

"  I  can't  tell/'  was  the  reply. 

"  But,  Colonel  Winchester,  an  intelligent  man 
can  give  a  reason  for  his  opinion.  Pray,  don't  give 
such  a  statement  as  that  without  offering  a  reason 
for  it." 

"  I  can't  give  a  reason ;  but  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  make  an  illustration,  I  will  do  so." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Mr.  Winchester,  "  some  distin 
guished  man  at  home  or  abroad  should  be  seen 
walking  on  'Change  ;  suppose  you  were  there  at 
high  'Change  ;  it  would  be  very  natural  to  point 
out  Daniel  Webster,  and  say,  '  There  goes  the  de 
fender  of  the  Constitution.'  Everybody  would 
mark  him,  and  nobody  could  mistake  his  identity. 
They  would  always  know  him  afterwards.  But  if, 
in  the  afternoon,  some  man  brought  me  a  head  and 
two  legs  and  two  arms  on  a  platter,  and  asked  me 


AT   THE  BAR.  95 

to  identify  them  separately  as  belonging  to  Daniel 
Webster,  I  could  not  swear  to  them.  In  the  same 
way,  there  is  something  about  this  signature  that 
does  not  look  genuine ;  but  I  could  not  swear  to 
the  particulars."  Mr.  Webster  smiled  at  this  reply, 
and  told  the  witness  that  he  might  be  excused. 

The  following  incident  of  the  Sanborn  suit  may 
be  related  as  an  instance  of  Mr.  Webster's  keen 
ness  and  power  of  repartee.  Augustus  Peabody, 
one  of  the  opposing  counsel,  was  very  familiar  with 
the  "books,"  and  no  case  could  be  cited  which  he 
could  not  find  at  once.  He  was  a  sort  of  walking 
dictionary  of  law.  Mr.  Webster  was  arguing  to 
the  jury,  and  cited  some  English  case,  when  Mr. 
Peabody  interrupted  him,  and  asked  where  the 
case  was  to  be  found  reported.  Mr.  Webster  went 
straight  on,  paying  no  attention  to  the  interrup 
tion,  and  Mr.  Hoar  and  Mr.  Peabody  hurriedly 
consulted  together.  Then  Mr.  Peabody  rose  and 
claimed  the  protection  of  the  court.  He  said  that 
Mr.  Webster  was  citing  authorities  to  sustain  his 
argument,  and  they  wished  to  know  where  they 
were  to  be  found,  so  that  they  could  judge  for 
themselves  as  to  the  pertinency  of  the  citation. 
Judge  Shaw  remarked  that  counsel  had  a  right  to 
know  where  the  cases  were  to  be  found,  and  that 
the  court  itself  would  like  to  know.  Mr.  Webster 
leaned  against  the  rail,  resting  on  his  elbow,  and 
looking  at  the  court,  said :  — 

"  It  is  not  very  good  manners  to  interrupt  me 
in  the  midst  of  a  sentence  addressed  to  the  jury. 
It  is  a  practice  in  which  I  never  indulge.  I  always 


96  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

let  counsel  have  their  say,  and  if  I  can  answer 
them,  I  do,  as  well  as  I  can.  This  interrupting  I 
don't  like  :  it  is  rather  a  habit  of  my  learned  friend 
on  the  other  side,  and  is  quite  annoying.  He  has 
appealed  to  me  to  know  where  the  case  that  I  have 
cited  can  be  found  reported,  somewhat  as  if  I  had 
quoted  a  case  that  was  fictitious.  What  I  wish  to 
say  in  answer  to  that  is,  that  the  case  to  which  I 
referred  was  so  and  so  [giving  the  names,  &c.], 
and  that  it  occurred  in  the  third  year  of  Lord 
Eldon  in  Chancery.  In  what  particular  volume  of 
reports  by  Lord  Eldon,  on  what  particular  page, 
and  how  many  lines  from  the  top  of  the  page,  I 
don't  know.  I  never  trouble  myself  with  these 
little  matters.  Peabody  has  nothing  else  to  do, 
and  he  can  hunt  it  up  at  his  leisure  !  " 

In  this  Sanborn  case,  there  was  a  witness  whose 
testimony  went  quite  strongly  against  Mr.  Web 
ster's  side.  He  was  asked  about  conversations 
that  he  had  had  with  Mr.  Webster's  client,  —  how 
many  times  Sanborn  had  told  him  that  Mr.  Tufts 
had  left  him  nothing  ?  The  witness  very  naively 
and  honestly  replied, — 

"  I  should  think  a  hundred  times." 

Only  a  year  had  elapsed,  and  the  extravagance 
of  the  statement  made  the  court  and  jury  laugh 
Mr.  Hoar,  whose  witness  he  was,  saw  at  once  that 
the  force  of  the  testimony  was  broken  by  the  exag 
geration,  and  said  he  supposed  the  witness  meant 
that  Sanborn  had  told  him  this  a  good  many  times. 

"  Think  again,  Mr.  Skilton,"  said  he ;  "  how 
many  times  was  it  ?  " 


AT  THE  BAR.  97 

"  Well/'  was  the  reply,  "  it  might  not  have  been 
more  than  sixty  or  seventy  times." 

Upon  being  questioned  again,  he  thought  there 
might  not  be  more  than  fifty  times. 

When  Mr.  Webster  addressed  the  jury  on  this 
point,  he  said  :  "  Now  I  come  to  the  testimony  of 
Mr.  Skilton  ;  and  I  can't  better  illustrate  it  than 
by  telling  a  snake  story  that  I  once  heard  told  by 
a  man  who  was  in  the  habit  of  drawing  a  pretty 
long  bow.  If  he  went  out  hunting  or  shooting, 
he  always  heard  or  saw  something  very  wonderful. 
On  one  occasion  he  reported  that  he  had  seen  a 
hundred  black  snakes,  all  in  a  row,  and  all  twenty 
feet  long.  '  Why,'  said  a  bystander,  '  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  ever  saw  one  hundred  black  snakes  in 
the  world.'  '  Well,'  replied  he,  '  there  were  sev 
enty-five.'  <  I  don't  believe  there  were  seventy- 
five.'  '  Well,  there  were  fifty,  at  any  rate.'  '  I 
don't  believe  there  were  fifty.'  '  Well,  there  were 
forty.'  And  he  finally  got  down  to  two,  when  he 
planted  his  foot  firmly  on  the  ground,  and  said  : 
'  I  declare  to  you  that  I  won't  take  off  another 
snake  ;  I'll  give  up  the  story  first ! '  So  this  wit 
ness  began  at  a  hundred,  and  got  down  to  seventy- 
five  and  fifty ;  but  all  my  learned  brother's  efforts 
could  not  get  him  below  fifty ;  he  '  had  rather  give 
up  the  story.'  ' 

Mr.  Webster  once  told  me  some  interesting  facts 
about  the  trial  of  the  Kennisons  at  Newburyport, 
for  the  Goodrich  robbery.  This  was  a  case  in 
which  a  drover  robbed  himself  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  induce  the  belief  that  it  was  done  by  the 

7 


98  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

,  ^c,,^ 

Kennisons,  who  kept  the  toll-gate  at  Newburyport 
Bridge.  He  fired  a  pistol  at  his  own  hand,  strewed 
gold  along  the  road  and  in  the  cellar  of  the  Kenni 
sons,  accused  them  of  robbing  him,  and  they  were 
arrested.  The  object  of  this  was  to  get  rid  of  pay 
ing  his  debts.  He  made  the  excuse  that  he  had 
been  robbed,  and  could  not.  The  case  excited  a 
great  deal  of  interest,  for  the  Kennisons  bore  a 
respectable  name,  and  the  circumstantial  evidence 
against  them  was  very  strong.  Most  people  did 
not  believe  that  they  were  guilty,  and  their  friends 
and  neighbors  prepared  to  assist  them  in  their  de 
fence.  I  will  give  the  rest  of  the  story  in  Mr. 
Webster's  own  words  :  — 

"  I  had  been  at  Washington  during  a  long  ses 
sion,  and  was  on  my  return  home.  At  Providence 
I  got  into  the  stage  for  Boston ;  and,  after  a  while, 
naturally  fell  into  conversation  with  the  one  or 
two  persons  besides  myself  that  it  contained.  I 
asked  what  the  news  was,  &c.,  and  found  one  of 
my  new  acquaintances  to  be  Mr.  Perkins,  of  New 
buryport,  —  a  very  intelligent,  pleasant  man. 
From  one  topic  of  conversation  to  another,  we 
came  to  speak  of  this  robbery.  Mr.  Perkins  said 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  excitement  in  Essex 
County,  and,  indeed,  even  in  Boston,  at  so  daring 
a  highway  robbery ;  and  there  was  much  division 
of  opinion  about  the  affair.  I  recollected  to  have 
seen  something  about  it  in  the  papers,  but  had 
retained  nothing,  and  now  took  no  interest  in  the 
subject  until  Mr.  Perkins  said  that  his  theory  of 
the  affair  was  that  the  man  robbed  himself. 


AT   THE  BAR.  99 

« <  Eobbed  himself ! '  said  I.  <  What  could  be 
his  motive  ? ' 

"  (  To  avoid  the  payment  of  money/ 

" i  What  makes  you  think  he  shot  himself  ? ' 
I  asked. 

"  i  The  wound  was  in  the  inside  of  the  left  hand/ 
replied  Mr.  Perkins,  '  on  the  inside  ends  of  the  fin 
gers.  He  was  fired  at,  and  the  ends  of  his  fingers 
were  torn  off.  Well,  suppose  you  were  to  be  as 
saulted,  would  you  be  very  likely  to  hold  your  hand 
open  outwards  ?  The  bullet,  if  it  hit  your  hand, 
would  hit  the  back  of  it.  Now,  if  a  man  were 
going  to  fire  at  himself,  he  would  shoot  himself 
just  where  this  man  is  wounded,  and  would  hurt 
himself  as  little  as  possible.' 

"  I  became  interested  in  the  matter,  and  we 
talked  of  it  till  we  got  nearly  home.  I  reached 
my  house  in  Summer  Street,  tired  and  jaded.  In 
the  midst  of  my  family  the  thought  of  every  thing 
else  went  out  of  my  head ;  but  the  next  morning, 
after  a  pretty  long  night's  rest,  I  got  up  refreshed 
to  rather  a  late  breakfast.  The  bell  rang,  and  the 
servant  came  to  the  breakfast-room  to  say  that 
some  gentlemen,  who  had  already  called  two  or 
three  times  to  see  me,  were  in  the  library.  (  Oh 
yes,'  said  my  wife,  '  they  are  two  gentlemen  from 
Newburyport,  who  are  anxious  to  get  you  to  go 
there,  and  defend  some  men  for  highway  rob 
bery.  They  seem  to  be  very  respectable  men, 
and  say  that  there  has  been  a  purse  made  up  to 
give  them  good  counsel.  The  court  has  also 
granted  a  delay,  to  give  them  a  chance  to  con- 


100  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

suit  you/  The  case  related  to  me  by  Mr.  Perkins 
instantly  crossed  my  mind  ;  but  I  said  :  — 

" '  I  am  tired,  and  shall  not  go  to  Newburyport 
to  try  any  case.' 

"  c  But/  said  she,  '  these  men  are  very  earnest, 
and  you  will  have  to  see  them  yourself.' 

"  I  finished  my  breakfast,  and  then  went  down 
into  the  library  to  see  them.  They  were  very 
anxious  that  I  should  go,  and  said  they  were  ready 
to  pay  any  fee  I  demanded.  I  replied  that  the  fee 
was  of  no  consequence,  and  that  the  reason  why  I 
would  not  go  was  that  I  had  just  returned  from 
Washington,  and  really  needed  repose. 

" '  Besides,'  I  said,  <  it  isn't  necessary  that  I 
should  go  ;  there  are  other  lawyers  who  can  try 
it  better  than  I.  There  is  Judge  Prescott.' 

"  They  replied  that  Judge  Prescott  was  engaged 
on  the  other  side,  and  that  that  was  one  of  the 
reasons  why  they  wanted  me. 

"  <  Well,'  I  said,  <  I  can't  go  ;  it  is  out  of  the 
question.  You  must  get  somebody  else.' 

"  They  looked  very  despondent,  as  much  as  to 
say,  '  We  are  very  sorry,  but  can't  help  it.'  Their 
expression  was  one  that  rather  overcame  me,  and 
I  began  to  relent.  I  asked  them  when  the  trial 
was  to  come  off.  They  replied,  it  would  be  called 
in  a  day  or  two.  And,  after  a  few  more  words,  1 
told  them  I  would  go ;  and  I  did  go. 

"  The  evidence  was  strongly  circumstantial,  for 
Goodrich  would  not  swear  that  Kennison  was  the 
man  who  assaulted  and  robbed  him ;  but  he  said 
it  was  a  man  that  looked  like  him.  Taking  all 


AT   THE  BAR.  101 

the  circumstances  together,  —  the  gold  which  was 
found  and  identified,  the  tracks,  and  so  on,  — r-  the 
evidence  was  pretty  strong  against  ;the  accused. 
I  had  in  my  mind  all  the  while  wltet  Perkins 
had  said  to  me  about  shooting  the  inside^  6t  the 
hand ;  and,  after  the  Government  had  examined 
Goodrich  for  three  hours,  and  riiade  him  tell  a 
pretty  straight  story,  they  said  they  wrere  through, 
and  gave  him  to  me  to  cross-examine.  Then,  for 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  case,  the  line 
of  defence  developed  itself  in  the  first  question 
which  was  asked.  I  never  saw  a  man's  color 
come  and  go  so  quickly,  as  when  I  asked  him  to 
explain  how  it  was  that  he  was  wounded  on  the 
inside  of  his  hand.  He  faltered,  and  showed  the 
most  unmistakable  signs  of  guilt.  I  made  him 
appear  about  as  mean  as  any  man  ever  did  on  the 
witness  stand.  The  Kennisons  were  triumphantly 
acquitted,  and  Goodrich  fled.  Every  one  saw  at 
once  that  he  had  perpetrated  this  robbery  himself. 
But  he  had  a  good  many  friends,  and  though  an 
indictment  was  found  against  him,  he  was  allowed 
to  leave  this  part  of  the  country. 

"  Some  ten  years  afterwards,"  continued  Mr. 
Webster,  "  I  was  travelling  in  Western  New  York 
with  Mrs.  Webster,  and  came,  on  a  Saturday  night, 
to  a  pleasant  village  near  Geneva.  We  found  a 
nice  country  hotel,  selected  rooms  there,  and  made 
ourselves  comfortable.  It  was  a  very  warm  even 
ing,  and  my  wife  ordered  some  cold  drink,  —  a 
pitcher  of  iced  lemonade,  I  think.  The  barkeeper 
brought  it  into  the  room  and  put  it  on  the  table ; 


102  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

but  as  it  was  a  little  dark,  I  took  no  special  notice 
ol  him.  v  After  Jie?  had  gone  out,  Mrs.  Webster 
saidc  '  Did  you'  Witice  how  agitated  that  person 
'was  £ :' ; -Iv^id, .  ^No,  I  did  not  notice  him  at  all. 
6  'Well,''  continued  she, '  he  eyed  you  very  narrowly, 
arid  seemed  to  be  very  much  frightened.' 

"  I  thought  no  more  of  it  then ;  but  the  next 
morning  I  was  in  the  bar-room,  and  noticed  that 
the  man  was  very  shy.  As  I  approached,  he 
would  slip  out  and  call  some  one  else  to  attend  me. 
I  said  to  myself, '  What  makes  that  man  shun  me  ? 
Who  and  what  is  he  ?  '  I  pursued  the  subject  in 
my  mind,  but  could  not  make  out  who  the  man 
was.  The  next  day  I  called  for  my  bill.  As  he 
made  it  out,  he  kept  his  back  to  me  as  much  as 
possible,  but  finally  handed  it  to  me  receipted. 
It  was  not  until  I  got  into  the  carriage  and  drove 
off  that  I  looked  at  the  signature.  I  discov 
ered,  half  obscured  in  the  great  inky  border  of 
the  printed  form,  the  name  of  Goodrich.  Then 
the  whole  thing  came  to  me  at  once.  This  man 
had  escaped  from  the  indignant  eye  of  the  world  ; 
had  gone  up  there  and  engaged  in  this  humble 
business  of  keeping  a  bar  at  a  country  hotel,  and 
doubtless  thought  himself  out  of  reach  of  old  asso 
ciations.  No  wonder  that  my  presence  agitated 
him  so  strongly." 

In  the  spring  of  1852,  —  the  year  he  died,  — 
Mr.  Webster  was  asked  to  argue  the  great  india- 
rubber  case,  which  was  tried  before  the  United 
States  Court  at  Trenton,  N.  J. ;  that  of  Goodyear 
v.  Day.  Day's  counsel  was  Choate  ;  and  as  Good- 


AT   THE   BAH.  103 

year  felt  the  importance  of  the  suit  to  him,  the 
legal  fees  which  he  should  pay  seemed  a  small 
matter.  Mr.  Webster  was  then  Secretary  of  State, 
and  no  man  occupying  such  a  place  had  ever  before 
taken  a  fee  and  gone  into  court.  He  was  over 
worked  and  in  feeble  health.  The  labors  of  the 
State  Department  wrere  heavy  and  severe ;  and 
when  the  proposition  was  made  to  him  to  go  to 
New  Jersey  at  that  warm  season  of  the  year,  to 
argue  a  case,  it  seemed  almost  an  insult.  He  was 
nevertheless  applied  to,  but  said  he  could  not  think 
of  it.  I  had  seen  Goody  ear's  agent,  who  told  me 
that,  if  Mr.  Webster  would  argue  the  case,  he  would 
give  him  a  check  for  ten  thousand  dollars  when 
ever  he  should  signify  his  willingness  to  undertake 
it ;  and,  if  the  case  was  decided  in  his  favor,  he 
would  give  five  thousand  dollars  more.  I  told  Mr. 
Webster  of  the  offer;  and,  apparently  struck  with 
what  I  said,  he  replied  :  — 

"  That  is  an  enormous  fee.     Can  he  afford  it  ?  " 
My  reply  was  that  it  was  his  business,  and  he  was 
a  shrewd  man,  with  every  thing  now  at  stake. 

"  It's  a  hard  thing  to  undertake,''  said  Mr.  Web 
ster.  "  It  is  an  unfavorable  season  of  the  year,  and 
my  duties  at  Washington  are  pressing ;  but  really 
I  do  not  see  how  I  can  forego  the  fee.  This  fee  I 
must  have,  for  it  will  pay  fifteen  thousand  dollars 
of  my  debts,  and  that  is  what  I  am  striving  to  do  ; 
it  is  what,  if  my  life  is  spared,  I  mean  to  do.  If  I 
can  pay  my  debts,  I  shall  die  in  peace,  a  happy 
man.  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  begin  to  do  it  so  well 
as  in  this  way.  I  shall  go  and  accept  the  fee." 


104  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

He  did  go ;  received  the  fee,  and  won  the  cause. 
But  he  never  put  one  dollar  of  the  money  into  his 
own  pocket.  He  appropriated  it  to  pay  his  debts, 
in  fact,  before  it  was  earned ;  and  I  never  in  my 
life  saw  him  apparently  more  delighted  than  when 
he  received  the  money.  Said  he  to  me  :  "  Three 
or  four  more  such  windfalls  as  that  will  let  me  die 
a  free  man ;  and  that  is  all  I  live  to  do." 

Two  weeks  before  Mr.  Webster's  death,  I  was 
at  Marshfield,  and  intended  to  leave  on  a  Monday 
morning.  It  was  necessary  to  start  very  early, 
before  the  family  should  be  astir,  in  order  to  get 
over  to  the  depot  at  Kingston.  The  day  before 
(Sunday),  Mr.  Webster  had  been  distressed,  and 
had  had  a  really  poor  day.  Something  was  said 
about  the  arrangements  to  get  Mr.  Paige  and  my 
self  over  to  the  depot.  I  said  :  — 

66  Mr.  Webster,  I  wish  you  would  not  give  it  a 
thought ;  we  shall  get  along  very  well." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  you  are  going  to 
get  over  to  the  depot  without  my  assistance,"  he 
replied  ;  "  nobody  ever  did  it  before.  I  shall  send 
you  over  to  the  depot  to-morrow  morning  with  one 
black  horse  and  one  white  one,  —  old  Morgan.  Is 
not  he  a  noble  horse  ?  And  the  black  horse,  — 
I  don't  believe  you  have  seen  him.  I  call  him 
*  Trenton.'  You  will  see  him,  and  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  him.  A  few  weeks  ago,  when  I  was 
in  Trenton  trying  the  Goodyear  case,  a  noble  and 
spirited  black  horse  was  driven  up  to  the  door  of 
the  hotel  every  morning,  in  a  carryall,  by  Mr. 
Goodyear's  servant,  and  I  was  carried  to  the  court 


AT   THE   BAR.  105 

When  the  court  adjourned,  I  was  returned  to  my 
lodgings  by  the  same  conveyance.  This  went  on 
for  a  good  many  days;  and  one  day  I  made  seme 
remark  to  Mr.  Goodyear  about  the  fine  character  of 
the  horse.  Said  he  :  '  Do  you  like  that  horse,  Mr. 
Webster  ? ' 

"  '  I  think  he  is  a  very  noble  animal/  I  replied. 

"  When  I  came  home,  a  month  ago,  that  horse 
stood  in  my  stall,  with  Mr.  Goodyear's  compli 
ments.  Was  not  that  generous  ?  So  I  call  him 
6  Trenton ; '  and  I  have  had  a  blanket  made  for 
him,  and  had  it  marked  '  Trenton.'  You  must  tell 
me,  the  next  time  you  come  down,  what  you  think 
of  him.  I  think  him  a  very  noble  horse." 

Jonathan  Smith,  of  Northampton,  a  wealthy 
bachelor,  left  all  his  estate,  amounting  to  four 
or  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  in  trust  to  the 
towns  of  North  and  East  Hampton,  for  educa 
tional  and  philanthropic  purposes.  But  he  had  a 
great  many  near  and  poor  relatives,  —  nephews, 
nieces,  cousins,  and  so  forth ;  and  none  of  them 
were  even  mentioned  in  the  will.  All  his  prop 
erty  was  given  to  public  purposes,  and  he  en 
tirely  excluded  his  relatives  from  any  part  of  it. 
They,  of  course,  made  a  vigorous  attempt  to  break 
the  will,  and  to  secure  the  property  for  themselves  ; 
but  they  had  scarcely  a  pretext  for  a  contest. 
The  will  was  well  drawn,  and  they  could  not  plead 
insanity  or  any  undue  influence.  There  was  only 
one  slender  circumstance  on  which  their  case  could 
stand.  The  law  of  Massachusetts  required  three 
good  witnesses  to  every  will,  and  no  will  was  valid 


106  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 

without  them.  The  relatives  undertook  to  break 
the  will,  on  the  ground  that  one  of  the  witnesses 
was  not  of  sound  mind.  If  they  could  establish 
this,  it  would  break  the  will,  and  the  property 
would  revert  to  the  heirs.  Mr.  Choate  was  coun 
sel  for  the  relatives,  against  the  validity  of  the 
will ;  while,  besides  Mr.  Baker,  a  former  member 
of  Congress  from  that  district,  and  nearly  a  dozen 
other  lawyers,  Mr.  Webster  was  employed  by  the 
town  of  Northampton  to  sustain  the  will.  The  case 
came  on  for  trial  in  the  Supreme  Court  at  North 
ampton,  in  the  summer  term.  It  was  a  very  hot 
day  when  Mr.  Webster  returned  to  Boston  after 
the  trial.  He  came  to  my  house  fresh  from  court, 
and  full  of  all  the  incidents  connected  with  the 
contest.  He  gave  me  a  very  graphic  account  of 
the  whole  affair.  The  witness,  whose  soundness 
of  mind  was  the  turning  point  in  the  case,  was  a 
young  law-student  named  Phelps,  —  a  grandson  of 
Chief  Justice  Parsons,  whose  daughter  was  Phelps's 
mother.  Mr.  Webster  was  exceedingly  interested 
in  this  young  man's  character.  When  he  arrived  at 
Northampton,  the  suit  was  the  sole  topic  of  conver 
sation  among  the  townspeople ;  and  the  eminence 
of  the  counsel  on  both  sides  gave  it  an  additional 
interest.  He  went  at  once  into  consultation  with 
the  other  counsel  for  the  will,  —  his  information 
about  the  case  being  then  very  limited.  His 
brother  lawyers  gave  him  their  briefs,  and  a  state 
ment  of  the  case  ;  and  he  inquired  into  the  history 
of  this  young  man.  They  told  him  that  the  other 
side  would  not  call  him  as  a  witness ;  and  they 


AT   THE  BAR.  107 

(the  counsel  for  the  will),  from  what  they  knew 
of  the  condition  of  the  young  man's  mind  and 
body,  —  both  being  in  a  morbid  and  diseased  state, 
—  did  not  consider  it  for  their  interest  to  call 
him,  believing  that  to  do  so  would  tell  decidedly 
against  their  case.  Mr.  Webster  replied  that  he 
would  decide  upon  that  after  an  interview  with 
the  young  man  himself.  They  said  that  it  would 
not  do  ;  that  they  knew  all  about  him  ;  that  his 
father  and  mother  said  that  it  would  not  do; 
and  that  he  was  already  in  a  very  frightened  and 
morbid  state,  for  fear  he  should  be  called.  "  He 
has  once  attempted  to  take  his  own  life,"  said 
the  lawyers,  "  and  they  will  question  him  about 
the  matter,  and  he  will  show  that  his  mind  is 
not  sound.  We  must  make  the  best  of  our 
case  by  collateral  and  outside  proof;  and  show, 
if  possible,  that  his  mind  was  sound  enough  to 
enable  him  to  witness  intelligently  the  signature 
of  a  will."  "  I  shall  see  the  young  man,"  replied 
Mr.  Webster,  "  and  then  I  shall  determine  whether 
to  call  him  or  not."  So  he  sent  a  messenger  from 
the  hotel  to  the  residence  of  the  young  man's 
father,  asking  to  see  him.  After  an  interview, 
he  told  the  father  that  he  wished  to  see  the  young 
man  himself.  The  father  was  an  intelligent,  edu 
cated  man,  and,  after  some  pleasant  conversation, 
he  departed,  appointing  an  hour  for  Mr.  Webster 
to  call  at  his  house  that  evening.  Mr.  Webster 
said  to  Mr.  Phelps  that  he  must  be  allowed  to 
deal  in  his  own  way  with  the  young  man,  who  had 
become  somewhat  frightened  at  the  idea  of  being 
examined  on  the  stand 


108          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

In  the  evening,  Mr.  Webster  had  an  interview 
with  young  Phelps  according  to  appointment.  In 
describing  him  to  me,  Mr.  Webster  said :  "  He  im 
pressed  me  at  once  as  a  refined,  gentlemanly,  sen 
sitive  creature.  When  I  attempted  to  draw  him 
out  in  conversation,  he  was  as  timid  as  a  child ;  but 
by  degrees  I  won  his  confidence,  and  put  him  at  his 
ease.  Then  we  talked  about  general  topics,  I  lead 
ing  the  conversation  rather  away  from  himself  and 
his  connection  with  the  will  case.  I  found  him  very 
pleasant  and  communicative  ;  and  after  I  had  talked 
with  him  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  I  gently 
referred  to  the  pending  trial  and  the  part  that  he 
would  have  to  take  in  it.  I  asked  him  if  he  could 
give  me  a  history  of  his  brief  career  in  life  ;  and  he 
immediately  related  to  me  one  of  the  most  inter 
esting  personal  narratives  to  which  I  ever  listened. 
He  took  me  back  to  his  earliest  childhood,  when  he 
was  the  idol  of  his  parents.  They  were  very  proud 
of  him,  and  wished  to  educate  him  and  put  him 
forward  in  life.  No  lad  at  school  could  out-run  or 
out-wrestle  him  ;  his  health  was  perfect ;  he  mas 
tered  his  lessons  with  ease,  and  gave  entire  satis 
faction  to  his  teachers  and  parents.  He  soon 
and  easily  fitted  for  college ;  entered  Amherst  at 
an  early  age,  and  was  as  contented  and  happy  a 
young  man  as  any  in  the  world.  But  in  his  second 
college  year  he  began  to  lose  his  health.  His  ap 
petite  failed,  and  he  became  dyspeptic.  A  rapid 
change  took  place  in  his  whole  physical  condition. 
He  became  languid  and  listless,  and  took  no  inter 
est  in  any  thing.  With  all  this  came  great  depres- 


AT  THE  BAR.  109 

sion  of  spirits.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  every  thing 
was  a  blank.  As  for  life,  it  had  no  charms  or  joys 
for  him.  His  father  and  mother  were  made  un 
happy  by  his  changed  condition,  consulted  physi 
cians,  took  him  to  the  mountains  and  the  seashore ; 
but  nothing  gave  him  benefit.  His  disease  seemed 
to  be  settled,  but  he  kept  on  with  his  studies  and 
took  his  degree.  He  grew  unhappy  and  disconso 
late,  and  shunned  every  one.  In  relating  this  part 
of  his  story,  young  Phelps  could  hardly  suppress 
his  emotions.  He  said  to  me  :  '  I  do  not  think  I  was 
morally  responsible  for  what  I  did,  and  I  never 
think  of  it  without  a  shudder ;  but  I  threw  my 
self  into  the  Connecticut  River,  in  a  fit  of  despera 
tion,  for  the  purpose  of  committing  suicide.  [Here 
he  burst  into  tears.]  For  this  act  I  prayed  God  to 
forgive  me.  I  think  he  has,  because  I  feel  that 
I  was  not  guilty  of  self-murder.  That  has  weighed 
upon  me  ;  but  my  health  has  lately  improved,  and 
I  really  feel  more  happy  and  contented.'  After 
telling  me  this,  we  talked  awhile  about  other 
things ;  and,  when  about  leaving,  I  told  him  that 
I  wished  him,  the  next  day,  when  I  should  sum 
mon  him  into  court,  to  go  there,  and  to  consider 
me  as  his  friend  ;  that  I  would  allow  no  questions 
to  be  put  to  him,  or  any  thing  to  be  said,  that 
would  wound  his  feelings.  I  said  :  '  You  have  the 
sympathy  of  everybody;  and  I  wish  you  to  tell, 
in  answer  to  my  questions,  the  story  of  your  life  as 
you  have  told  it  to  me,  merely  to  show  to  the  jury 
and  the  court  the  condition  of  your  mind.  You 
may  feel  absolutely  confident  that  nobody  shal] 


110          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

harm  you.'  He  went  into  court  the  next  day,  and 
told  the  story  so  eloquently  that  there  was  hardly 
a  dry  eye  in  the  court-room.  He  trembled  as  he 
spoke,  yet  with  a  touching,  truthful  manner  that 
had  its  effect.  I  had  told  Mr.  Choate  that  if  he 
did  any  thing  to  wound  the  feelings  of  that  young 
man,  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  triumph  in  the  case, 
I  should  consider  it  a  cruelty  which  nothing  could 
justify.  Mr.  Choate  promised  me  that  he  would 
say  nothing,  consistently  with  his  duty  to  his  clients, 
to  injure  the  young  man's  feelings ;  and  he  kept 
his  promise.  When  the  young  man  had  told  his 
story  and  left  the  stand,  I  felt  secure  in  my  case ; 
and  it  was  won  upon  that  single  point. 

"  This  Phelps  was  the  grandson  of  Chief  Jus 
tice  Parsons,  who,  although  one  of  the  greatest  of 
lawyers,  had,  as  he  himself  well  knew,  a  streak  of 
insanity  in  his  mind.  He  laid  down  the  law 
that  should  govern  the  decisions  of  the  courts  in 
Massachusetts  in  cases  of  insanity,  —  what  should 
be  testimony  and  what  should  not.  The  law  of 
Chief  Justice  Parsons  has  been  the  law  of  the  Mas 
sachusetts  courts  from  that  day  to  this ;  and  that 
was  the  very  law  laid  down  by  the  court  in  deter 
mining  this  case  at  Northampton." 

Mr.  Webster  continued :  "  There  was  another 
interesting  incident  about  this  Northampton  case. 
I  found  out  that  the  foreman  of  the  jurj^  was  a  but 
ton  manufacturer,  —  a  Mr.  Williston,  who  had  made 
a  gift  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  Amherst  College, 
and  founded  an  academy  at  Easthampton  on  a  like 
sum.  There  he  sat,  —  this  button-maker,  —  as 


AT  THE  BAR.  Ill 

meek  as  Moses,  and  tried  this  case.  I  discovered 
how  he  came  to  make  his  fortune  out  of  the  manu 
facturing  of  buttons.  He  had  purchased  some 
cloth  for  a  coat,  and  his  wife  was  going  to  make 
it  up.  He  bought,  among  other  trimmings,  some 
lasting  buttons,  and  paid  a  certain  price  for  them, 
—  say,  seventy-five  cents  a  dozen.  His  wife  asked 
him  what  he  paid  for  them,  and  he  told  her. 
f  Why,'  said  she,  '  that  is  a  large  price ;  with 
button-moulds  and  a  little  lasting  I  could  make 
these  buttons  for  a  quarter  of  that  price.  If  you 
will  take  these  back  and  get  some  button-moulds, 
I  will  show  you.'  He  did  so,  and  she  made  some 
buttons  which  to  all  appearance  were  as  good  as 
those  that  he  bought  at  the  store.  That  led  to  the 
idea  of  his  making  buttons  to  sell.  He  began  by 
employing  a  few  girls,  and  carrying  his  buttons  to 
the  country  stores  and  selling  them.  He  found  it 
a  profitable  enterprise.  The  business  grew.  He 
then  employed  machinery;  and  now  he  is  the 
greatest  button-manufacturer  in  the  United  States. 
He  has  made  an  immense  fortune,  and  employs 
very  many  hands  and  a  great  deal  of  machinery 
in  making  buttons." 

The  following  anecdote  was  related  by  Mr. 
Webster,  in  reference  to  his  connection  with  the 
celebrated  Dartmouth  College  case,  in  which  the 
New  Hampshire  legislature  attempted  to  interfere 
with  the  ancient  charter  of  that  institution;  in 
which,  it  may  not  be  forgotten,  Mr.  Webster  tri 
umphed,  by  the  decision  of  the  United  States  su 
preme  court,  confirming  the  claim  of  the  college. 


112  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

While  engaged  in  the  case,  Mr.  "Webster  told  the 
President  that,  as  the  original  charter  was  granted 
and  the  endowment  made  by  Lord  Dartmouth  ex 
pressly  for  the  purpose  of  civilizing  and  instructing 
the  Indians,  a  question  might  arise  on  this  point ; 
and  as  no  Indian  had  been  attached  to  the  school 
for  a  long  period,  it  would  be  well  for  the  President 
to  go  into  Canada,  and  bring  some  of  the  aborigines 
within  the  walls  of  the  college,  so  that  a  jury  could 
not  find  that  the  charter  had  been  abrogated  on 
that  score.  Accordingly  the  President  went,  and 
found  three  choice  specimens,  and  brought  them 
to  the  brink  of  the  river ;  and  after  some  delay  he 
procured  a  boat  and  began  to  ferry  them  across,  — 
when  the  young  Indians,  not  precisely  understand 
ing  the  object  of  so  much  kindness  on  the  part  of 
the  President,  and  espying  the  walls  of  the  college 
on  the  bank,  had  not  only  their  wonder  excited, 
but  grew  suspicious  that,  if  once  within  those  walls, 
it  might  be  difficult  to  escape.  Whereupon,  the 
young  Indian  at  the  bow  of  the  boat  cast  a  signifi 
cant  glance  at  his  associates,  gave  the  war-whoop, 
and  quick  as  thought  they  all  plunged  into  the 
middle  of  the  river,  and  swam  for  the  shore.  Said 
Mr.  Webster :  "  The  falling  of  the  walls  of  Jericho, 
on  the  sounding  of  the  ram's  horn,  could  not  have 
astonished  Joshua  more  than  this  unlooked-for 
escapade  of  the  Indians  astonished  the  President. 
He  hallooed,  entreated,  and  tried  to  explain  all; 
but  the  Indians  kept  straight  on  their  course  to 
the  shore,  and  made  with  all  speed  for  the  woods, 
—  the  last  President  Wheelock  ever  saw  or  heard 


AT   THE   BAR.  113 

of  them."  So  Mr.  Webster  had  to  go  on  with  the 
case  without  the  Indians.  This  anecdote  used  to 
amuse  him  exceedingly;  and  Judge  Story  would 
join  in  with  his  happy,  light-hearted  laugh,  which 
only  those  who  knew  him  can  appreciate. 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT  THE  BAR.  — CONTINUED. 

THE  great  law  cases  in  which  Mr.  "Webster  en 
gaged  during  his  professional  career  were  carefully 
studied,  and  the  arguments,  in  every  instance,  were 
elaborately  prepared.  His  briefs,  notes,  and  mem 
oranda  prove  this  beyond  a  doubt.  A  large  mass 
of  legal  documents  still  exist  to  testify  to  his  dili 
gence,  research,  and  logical  acumen.  The  papers 
belonging  to  each  case  are  filed  by  themselves 
and  properly  labelled.  The  contents  of  some  of 
these  parcels  have  been  carefully  examined.  The 
papers  relating  to  the  Dartmouth  College  case 
contain,  — 

1.  Notes  on  the  arguments  of  Messrs.  Holmes 
and  Wirt ;  topics  of  discourse,  heads  of  their  argu 
ments,  and  authorities  quoted  by  them  are  noted, 
Scarcely  any  reference   contains  more  than  one 
line ;    and   important   points   are   marked   by  an 
index  and  underscored,  to  call  attention  to  them. 
These    memoranda   were    evidently  made   while 
those  lawyers  were  speaking. 

2.  In  another  parcel  are  found  five  sheets  of 
letter-paper,  closely  written  over  with  the  main 


AT  THE  BAR.  115 

arguments  employed  by  him  in  the  New  Hamp 
shire  court,  in  defence  of  the  college  charter,  as  a 
contract  between  the  grantor  and  the  grantees. 

3.  A  larger  parcel,  of  fifteen  sheets  quite  closely 
written  over,  seems  to  contain  the  substance  of  his 
plea  in  the  United  States  court  in  that  case.  There 
are  other  papers  containing  abstracts  of  decisions 
from  English  authorities,  and  legal  references  re 
lating  to  the  subject. 

There  are  some  hundreds  of  similar  cases  on  file* 
They  contain  a  rich  treasure  of  legal  research, 
learning,  and  argument.  If  published  precisely 
as  they  are,  they  would  be  of  great  value  to  stu 
dents  at  law,  as  showing  how  one  of  the  ablest 
advocates  of  the  age  prepared  and  managed  his 
cases.  As  he  made  notes  of  the  arguments  of  the 
opposing  counsel  as  well  as  of  his  own,  the  sub 
stance  of  the  reasoning  on  both  sides  is  presented. 
These  papers  show  how  the  mightiest  champions 
of  the  forum  were  equipped  for  the  contest ;  with 
what  spirit  they  entered  the  lists ;  how  bold  and  defi 
ant  were  their  challenges  ;  and  what  were  the  strong 
and  weak  points  of  assault  and  defence  with  each 
combatant.  Such  a  study  would  be  eminently  in 
structive  to  an  inquisitive  student,  and  not  without 
practical  utility  to  the  mature  advocate.  It  would 
be  like  learning  the  art  of  war  from  the  study  of  the 
battle-grounds,  strongholds,  and  warlike  munitions 
of  great  armies.  Thus  the  perils  of  actual  partici 
pation  in  the  conflict  would  be  avoided,  and  all  the 
benefit  of  personal  inspection  secured.  If  some 
competent  jurist  should  edit  these  papers,  the  whole 


116          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

legal  life  of  Mr.  Webster  might  be  placed,  as  upon 
a  canvas,  before  the  reading  public.  It  is  well 
known  that  some  of  the  most  eloquent  appeals  he 
ever  made  were  addressed  to  juries.  No  reporters 
were  present ;  of  course,  no  traces  of  such  brilliant 
passages  remain,  except  in  the  meagre  notes  which 
he  prepared  before  entering  the  court.  Some  of 
these  sketches  may  be  so  full  as  to  enable  a  con 
genial  spirit  to  clothe  the  skeletons  with  flesh,  and 
give  to  arguments  something  of  their  original 
beauty  and  strength. 

Mr.  Webster  gave  his  first  impressions  of  the 
English  courts  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Healy,  of  Boston. 
Writing  from  London,  June  9,  1839,  he  says : 

"  We  arrived  in  London  on  the  evening  of  the 
fifth  instant.  The  sixth  was  rainy.  1  went  out 
quite  alone ;  looked  into  all  the  courts,  —  the 
whole  four  were  sitting.  1  saw  all  their  venerable 
wigs.  I  stayed  long  enough  to  hear  several  gen 
tlemen  speak.  They  are  vastly  better  trained 
than  we  are.  They  speak  briefly.  They  rise, 
begin  immediately,  and  leave  off  when  they  have 
done.  Their  manner  is  more  like  that  of  a  school 
boy,  who  gets  up  to  say  his  lesson,  goes  right 
through  it,  and  then  sits  down,  than  it  is  like  our 
more  leisurely  and  deliberate  habits.  Sergeant 
Wilde,  who  is  esteemed  a  long  speaker,  argued  an 
insurance  question  in  fifteen  minutes,  that  most  of 
us  would  have  got  an  hour's  speech  out  of.  The 
rooms  are  all  small,  with  very  inconvenient  places 
for  writing,  and  almost  nobody  present  except  the 
wigged  population.  I  went  to  the  Parliament 


AT   THE   BAR.  117 

Houses  (Houses  not  in  session).  Their  rooms  are 
very  small.  The  room  where  the  Lords  sit,  I  was 
sure  must  be  the  old  '  Painted  Chamber/  where 
the  committees  of  conference  used  to  meet.  On 
entering  it,  I  asked  the  guide  what  committee  room 
that  was.  He  turned  to  rebuke  my  ignorance,  and 
exclaimed  :  '  This  is  the  House  of  Lords.'  I  was 
right,  however.  The  House  of  Commons  was  burnt, 
you  know,  some  time  ago,  and  the  Commons  now 
sit  in  what  was  the  House  of  Lords,  and  the  Lords 
sit  temporarily  in  the  old  '  Painted  Chamber/ 
All  these  accommodations  are  small  and  inconven 
ient.  New  buildings  are  in  progress  for  the  use 
of  both  Houses." 

In  contrast  with  the  description  of  the  speaking 
in  the  London  courts,  Mr.  Webster,  in  writing  to 
Mr.  Mason,  in  1819,  spoke  as  follows  of  the  time 
occupied  by  American  lawyers  in  arguing  their 
cases  in  the  supreme  court  of  the  United  States : 

"  To  talk  is  so  much  the  practice  here,  that,  in 
the  few  cases  I  have,  I  find  my  attention  wholly 
engaged  in  listening.  We  have,  for  instance,  an 
equity  case  here  from  the  Massachusetts  district. 
Mr.  Bigelow,  Mr.  Amory,  and  myself  argued  it  in 
half  a  day  in  Boston.  It  comes  up  here  on  pre 
cisely  the  same  papers  and  the  same  points.  We 
have  now  been  two  whole  days  upon  it,  and  Wirt 
is  not  yet  through  for  the  appellee ;  and  I  have 
yet  to  close  for  the  appellant.  In  Mr.  Bell's  case, 
Mr.  Pinkney  was  near  two  hours  in  opening,  and 
full  four  in  the  close." 

Mr.  Webster's  estimate  of  what  constituted  a 


118  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

good  jurist  may  be  learned  from  his  frequent  com 
mendation  of  the  men  who,  in  his  opinion,  best 
deserved  that  distinction.  In  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Blatchford,  in  1849,  he  writes  from  the  court 
room  :  "  Mr.  B.  R.  Curtis  is  now  speaking  in  reply 
to  Mr.  Choate,  on  the  legal  question.  He  is  very 
clever.  With  very  competent  learning,  his  great 
mental  characteristic  is  clearness ;  and  the  power 
of  clear  statement  is  the  great  power  at  the  bar. 
Chief  Justice  Marshall  possessed  it  in  a  most  re 
markable  degree  ;  so  does  Lord  Lyndhurst.  If  to 
this  character  of  clearness  you  add  fulness  and 
force,  you  make  a  man,  whether  as  a  lawyer,  an 
historian,  or  indeed  a  poet,  whose  discourse  or 
writing  merits  the  application  of  those  lines  of 
unsurpassed  beauty  in  Denham's  '  Cooper's  Hill  • ' 

"  *  Though  deep,  yet  clear;  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull; 
Strong  without  rage;  without  o'erflowing,  full.' 

I  think  the  judgment  of  Lord  Mansfield  came  the 
nearest  to  this  high  standard." 

Mr.  Webster  soon  confirmed  his  good  opinion  of 
Mr.  Curtis  by  securing  for  him  a  seat  upon  the 
bench  of  the  United  States  supreme  court,  for 
which  his  eminent  talents  and  legal  learning  so 
well  prepared  him.  He  did  not  disappoint  the 
expectation  of  his  friends,  but  constantly  gained 
golden  opinions  for  his  clear,  full,  and  forcible 
decisions  until  his  retirement  from  the  bench. 

Mr.  Webster's  relations  with  and  opinions  of 
the  eminent  judges  and  lawyers  of  his  time  are 
worth  recording  ;  and  the  following  account  of  his 


AT  THE  BAR.  119 

intercourse  with  some  of  the  most  celebrated  will 
prove  interesting. 

One  day,  I  had  been  asking  him  some  questions 
about  his  controversy  with  John  Randolph.  It 
was  said,  I  told  him,  that  John  Randolph  had  chal 
lenged  him.  He  replied  that  that  was  not  true. 

"  But/'  said  he,  "  he  sent  Colonel  Benton  to  me 
to  know  if  I  meant  such  and  such  things ;  and  I 
told  him  that  I  did  not  choose  to  be  called  to 
account  for  any  thing  I  had  said,  and  that  I 
meant  just  what  I  said.  It  was  evident  that  there 
was  a  purpose  to  have  a  row  with  me." 

"  Of  course,"  I  remarked,  "  you  would  not  ac 
cept  a  challenge." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  he ;  "I  despise  the  whole 
thing.  I  have  given  them  something  that  was, 
perhaps,  more  disagreeable  than  buckshot." 

I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever,  in  those  violent, 
troublous  times,  carried  pistols. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  never  did.  I  always  trusted 
to  my  strong  arms,  and  I  do  not  believe  in  pistols. 
There  were  some  Southern  men  whose  blood  was 
hot,  and  who  got  very  much  excited  in  debate  ; 
and  I  used  myself  to  get  excited :  but  I  never 
resorted  to  any  such  extremity  as  the  use  of 
pistols." 

"  The  nearest  I  ever  came  to  a  downright  row," 
continued  Mr.  Webster,  "  was  with  Mr.  William 
Pinkney.  Mr.  Pinkney  was  the  acknowledged 
head  and  leader  of  the  American  bar.  He  was 
the  great  practitioner  at  Washington  when  I  was 
admitted  to  practise  in  the  courts  there.  I 


120          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

found  Mr.  Pinkney,  by  universal  concession,  the 
very  head  of  the  bar,  —  a  lawyer  of  extraordinary 
accomplishments,  and  withal  a  very  wonderful  man. 
But  with  all  that,  there  was  something  about  him 
that  was  very  small.  He  did  things  that  one 
would  hardly  think  it  possible  that  a  gentleman 
of  his  breeding  and  culture  and  great  weight  as 
a  lawyer  could  do.  He  was  a  very  vain  man. 
One  saw  it  in  every  motion  he  made.  When  he 
came  into  court  he  was  dressed  in  the  very  extreme 
of  fashion,  —  almost  like  a  dandy.  He  would  wear 
into  the  court-room  his  white  gloves,  that  had  been 
put  on  fresh  that  morning,  and  that  he  never  put 
on  again.  He  usually  rode  from  his  house  to  the 
Capitol  on  horseback  ;  and  his  overalls  were  taken 
off  and  given  to  his  servant,  who  attended  him 
Pinkney  showed  in  his  whole  appearance  that  he 
considered  himself  the  great  man  of  that  arena, 
and  that  he  expected  deference  to  be  paid  to 
him  as  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  bar.  He 
had  a  great  many  satellites,  —  men,  of  course, 
much  less  eminent  than  himself  at  the  bar,  and  of 
less  practice,  —  who  flattered  him,  and  employed 
him  to  take  their  briefs  and  argue  their  cases, 
they  doing  the  work,  and  he  receiving  the  great 
est  share  of  the  pay.  That  was  the  position  that 
Mr.  Pinkney  occupied  when  I  entered  the  bar 
at  Washington. 

"  I  was  a  lawyer  who  had  my  living  to  get ;  and 
I  felt  that,  although  I  should  not  argue  my  cases 
as  well  as  he  could,  still,  if  my  clients  employed 
me,  they  should  have  the  best  ability  I  had  to  give 


AT  THE   BAR.  121 

them,  and  I  should  do  the  work  myself.  I  did  not 
propose  to  practise  law  in  the  Supreme  Court  by 
proxy.  I  think  that,  in  some  pretty  important 
cases  I  had,  Mr.  Pinkney  rather  expected  that  I 
should  fall  into  the  current  of  his  admirers,  and 
divide  my  fees  with  him.  This  I  utterly  refused 
to  do.  In  some  important  case  (I  have  forgotten 
now  what  the  case  was),  Mr.  Pinkney  was  em 
ployed  to  argue  it  against  me.  I  was  going  to 
argue  it  for  my  client  myself.  I  had  felt  that,  on 
several  occasions,  his  manner  was,  to  say  the  least, 
very  annoying  and  aggravating.  My  intercourse 
with  him,  so  far  as  I  had  any,  was  always  marked 
with  great  courtesy  and  deference.  I  regarded 
him  as  the  leader  of  the  American  bar :  he  had 
that  reputation,  and  justly.  He  was  a  very  great 
lawyer.  On  the  occasion  to  which  I  refer,  in  some 
colloquial  discussion  upon  various  minor  points  of 
the  case,  he  treated  me  with  contempt.  He  pooh- 
poohed,  as  much  as  to  say  it  was  not  worth  while 
to  argue  a  point  that  I  did  not  know  any  thing 
about ;  that  I  was  no  lawyer.  I  think  he  spoke 
of  the  '  gentleman  from  New  Hampshire/  At  any 
rate,  it  was  a  thing  that  everybody  in  the  court 
house,  including  the  judges,  could  not  fail  to  ob 
serve.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  himself  was  pained 
by  it.  It  was  very  hard,"  added  Mr.  Webster,  "  for 
me  to  restrain  my  temper,  and  keep  cool ;  but  I 
did  so,  knowing  in  what  presence  I  stood.  I  think 
he  construed  my  apparent  humility  into  a  want  of 
what  he  would  call  spirit  in  resenting,  and  as  a 
sort  of  acquiescence  in  his  rule.  However,  the 


122  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

incident  passed ;  the  case  was  not  finished  when 
the  hour  for  adjournment  came,  and  the  court 
adjourned  until  the  next  morning.  Mr.  Pinkney 
took  his  whip  and  gloves,  threw  his  cloak  over  his 
arm,  and  began  to  saunter  away.  I  went  up  to 
him,  and  said  very  calmly,  '  Can  I  see  you  alone 
in  one  of  the  lobbies  ?  '  He  replied  :  '  Certainly/ 
I  suppose  that  he  thought  I  was  going  to  beg  his 
pardon  and  ask  his  assistance.  We  passed  into 
one  of  the  anterooms  of  the  Capitol.  I  looked 
into  one  of  the  grand-jury  rooms,  rather  remote 
from  the  main  court-room.  There  was  no  one  in 
it,  and  we  entered.  As  we  did  so  I  looked  at  the 
door,  and  found  that  there  was  a  key  in  the 
lock ;  and,  unobserved  by  him,  I  turned  the  key 
and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  Mr.  Pinkney  seemed 
to  be  waiting  with  some  astonishment.  I  ad 
vanced  towards  him,  and  said :  ( Mr.  Pinkney, 
you  grossly  insulted  me  this  morning,  in  the 
court-room;  and  not  for  the  first  time  either.  In 
deference  to  your  position  and  to  the  respect  in 
which  I  hold  the  court,  I  did  not  answer  you  as  I 
was  tempted  to  do,  on  the  spot.'  He  began  to 
parley.  I  continued:  f  You  know  you  did:  don't 
add  another  sin  to  that ;  don't  deny  it ;  you  know 
you  did  it,  and  you  know  it  was  premeditated.  It 
was  deliberate ;  it  was  purposely  done  ;  and,  if  you 
deny  it,  you  state  an  untruth.  Now/  I  went  on, 
'I'  am  here  to  say  to  you,  once  for  all,  that  you 
must  ask  my  pardon,  and  go  into  court  to-morrow 
morning  and  repeat  the  apology,  or  else  either 
you  or  I  will  go  out  of  this  room  in  a  different 


AT  THE  BAR.  123 

condition  from  that  in  which  we  entered  it.'  I 
was  never  more  in  earnest.  He  looked  at  me, 
and  saw  that  my  eyes  were  pretty  dark  and 
firm.  He  began  to  say  something.  I  interrupted 
him.  '  No  explanations/  said  I :  '  admit  the  fact, 
and  take  it  back.  I  do  not  want  another  word 
from  you  except  that.  I  will  hear  no  explanation ; 
nothing  but  that  you  admit  it,  and  recall  it.'  He 
trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf.  He  again  attempted 
to  explain.  Said  I :  '  There  is  no  other  course. 
I  have  the  key  in  my  pocket,  and '  you  must 
apologize,  or  take  what  I  give  you.'  At  that  he 
humbled  down,  and  said  to  me  :  '  You  are  right ;  I 
am  sorry  •  I  did  intend  to  bluff  you ;  I  regret  it, 
and  ask  your  pardon.'  '  Enough,'  I  promptly 
replied.  '  Now,  one  promise  before  I  open  the 
door;  and  that  is,  that  you  will  to-morrow  morn 
ing  state  to  the  court  that  you  have  said  things 
which  wounded  my  feelings,  and  that  you  regret 
it.'  Pinkney  replied :  '  I  will  do  so.'  Then  I 
unlocked  the  door,  and  passed  out.  The  next 
morning,  when  the  court  met,  Mr.  Pinkney  at 
once  rose,  and  stated  to  the  court  that  a  very 
unpleasant  affair  had  occurred  the  morning  before, 
as  might  have  been  observed  by  their  honors ;  that 
his  friend,  Mr.  Webster,  had  felt  grieved  at  some 
things  which  had  dropped  from  his  lips ;  that  his 
zeal  for  his  client  might  have  led  him  to  say  some 
things  which  he  should  not  have  said ;  and  that  he 
was  sorry  for  having  thus  spoken. 

"  From  that  day,  while  at  the  bar,  there  was  no 
man,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  who  treated  me  with 


124  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

so  much  respect  and  deference  as  Mr.  William 
Pinkney." 

"  Just  before  Mr.  Pinkney  died,"  Mr.  Webster 
went  on  to  say,  "  we  were  trying  a  case  in  the 
Supreme  Court,  —  I  on  one  side,  and  he  on  the 
other ;  and,  as  he  finished  his  argument,  I  noticed 
that  he  was  laboring  under  considerable  pain.  I 
was  about  to  begin  my  reply,  when  he  rose  from 
his  seat,  having  just  thrown  his  cloak  over  him,  ad 
dressed  the  court,  and  said  that  if  I  would  consent, 
and  if  the  court  would  consent,  he  would  beg  it  as 
a  favor  that  the  court  should  adjourn  to  another 
day;  as  he  was  afraid  that  he  should  be  utterly 
unable  to  remain  and  listen  to  my  argument,  which 
he  really  desired  to  hear  very  much.  I  acquiesced 
cheerfully,  and  so  did  the  court ;  and  the  case  was 
adjourned  for  the  day.  I  then  went  and  spoke 
with  Mr.  Pinkney.  He  said  he  felt  chilly  all  over, 
and  had,  he  thought,  a  sort  of  ague  shock.  I 
helped  him  to  adjust  his  cloak,  and  he  drove  to  his 
lodgings.  In  forty-eight  hours  from  that  time  Mr. 
Pinkney  was  dead,  having  been  prostrated  by  a 
violent  fever." 

It  is  remarkable  that  two  of  the  ablest  of  Ameri 
can  lawyers  should  have  made  their  last  pleas  in 
opposition  to  Mr.  Webster.  Mr.  Emmet  died  with 
even  less  premonition  than  Mr.  Pinkney,  after  hav 
ing  finished  a  brilliant  reply  to  Mr.  Webster. 

Mr.  Pinkney  once  availed  himself  of  Mr.  Web 
ster's  ready  memory  in  stating  principles  of  law 
at  the  bar.  Pinkney  had,  in  this  respect,  all  the 
assurance  for  which  John  Kandolph  was  noted. 


AT  THE  BAR. 


Randolph,  not  too  punctilious  about  giving  credit, 
never  hesitated  to  appropriate  anybody's  store  of 
learning,  when  occasion  offered.  In  a  certain  case 
in  the  Supreme  Court,  the  lawyer  opposed  to  Pink- 
ney  made  a  glaring  blunder  in  quoting  authorities, 
Webster  turned  to  Pinkney  and  whispered  :  "  Black- 
stone's  assertions  are  precisely  the  reverse."  "  Can 
you  show  me  the  place  ?  "  asked  Pinkney.  "  Oh, 
yes ; "  and  Mr.  Webster  passed  into  the  court 
library,  found  the  volume,  and  handed  it  to  Pink 
ney,  open  at  the  right  quotation.  Pinkney  studied 
it  attentively  for  some  time  ;  then  he  laid  the  book 
carefully  away.  After  his  opponent  had  finished, 
Pinkney  rose  to  reply.  When  he  came  to  that 
part  of  his  adversary's  speech  in  which  the  mis 
quoted  passage  occurred,  he  said :  — 

"I  am  greatly  surprised — if,  indeed,  my  feel 
ings  are  not  of  a  stronger  nature  than  surprise  — 
at  the  manner  in  which  the  counsel  for  the  plaintiff 
has  laid  down  the  law.  There  are  some  principles 
BO  universally  admitted,  and  so  elementary, — 
principles  which  the  youthful  student  is  taught  at 
the  very  threshold  of  his  instruction,  —  that  no 
well-read  lawyer  could  ever  be  supposed  to  be  igno 
rant  of  them,  or  to  forget  them.  May  it  please  the 
court,  it  is  some  years  since  I  have  looked  at 
Blackstone,  and  perhaps,  at  my  time  of  life,  my 
memory  may  be  at  fault ;  but,  if  I  mistake  not, 
your  honors  will  find  in  the  first  volume,  some 
where  about  the  one  hundredth  page,  the  follow 
ing  language." 

Then  he  recited,  as  if  by  difficult  recollection, 


126  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

slowly,  and  word  for  word,  the  exact  language  of 
Blackstone,  which  he  had  just  before  committed 
to  memory. 

Mr.  Wirt  and  Mr.  Webster  were  friends.  When 
the  former  was  attorney-general,  Mr.  Webster  had 
occasion  to  call  upon  him.  They  sat  opposite  each 
other,  engaged  in  conversation.  There  was  a  glass 
in  the  room,  which,  as  Mr.  Wirt  raised  his  eyes, 
revealed  to  him  whatever  was  going  on  behind 
him.  One  of  his  daughters,  —  a  little  girl  of  four 
or  five  years,  —  without  knowing  anybody  was 
there,  had  pushed  the  door  open  to  come  into  the 
library.  She  saw  Mr.  Webster's  large  figure,  and 
hesitated.  Mr.  Wirt  watched  her  face,  and  she  had 
an  expression  something  like  fear ;  but  it  was  only 
for  an  instant.  He  saw  her  features  relax  as  Mr. 
Webster  looked  at  her ;  and  it  was  not  two  min 
utes  before  Mr.  Webster's  arms  were  stretched  out, 
and  the  child  rushed  into  them.  Mr.  Wirt  said  this 
little  incident  touched  him  as  much  as  any  thing 
that  ever  occurred  to  him.  He  said  to  Mr.  Web 
ster  :  "  This  has  revealed  to  me  a  trait  of  charac 
ter  I  did  not  suppose  you  possessed.  I  thought 
you  cold ;  but  I  see  a  child  knows  where  to  find  a 
warm  heart." 

Mr.  Webster  had  the  most  exalted  opinion  of 
Chief  Justice  Marshall.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother, 
in  1814,  he  says:  "There  is  no  man  in  the  court 
who  strikes  me  like  Marshall.  He  is  a  plain  man, 
looking  very  much  like  Colonel  Adams,  about 
three  inches  taller.  I  never  have  seen  a  man  of 
whose  intellect  I  had  a  higher  opinion." 


AT  THE  BAR.  127 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  very  high  appreciation  of 
Judge  Shaw  as  a  jurist.  He  once  said  to  me  : 
"  Massachusetts  is  indebted  to  me  for  one  thing, 
if  for  nothing  else.  I  have  been  the  cause  of 
giving  her  a  chief -justice  to  her  highest  court  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century ;  one  unsur 
passed  in  every  thing  that  constitutes  an  upright, 
learned,  and  intelligent  judge.  Massachusetts 
is  indebted  to  me  for  having  Judge  Shaw  at  the 
head  of  her  judiciary  for  thirty  years;  for  he 
never  would  have  taken  the  place  had  it  not 
been  for  me.  When  Levi  Lincoln  was  governor, 
the  vacancy  occurred,  and  was  to  be  filled.  Shaw 
was  then  in  a  very  large  practice,  yielding  him 
fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year ;  and  he 
had  a  growing  family  to  maintain.  Governor  Lin 
coln  consulted  me  about  filling  the  vacancy,  and  I 
said :  — 

"  '  Appoint  Lemuel  Shaw,  by  all  means.' 

" '  But  he  won't  take  it/  said  the  governor. 

66 '  We  must  make  him  take  it/  said  I. 

"  I  approached  him  upon  the  subject.  He  was 
almost  offended  at  the  suggestion. 

"  '  Do  you  suppose/  said  he,  '  that  I  am  going, 
at  my  time  of  life,  to  take  an  office  that  has  so 
much  responsibility  attached  to  it,  for  the  paltry 
sum  of  three  thousand  dollars  a  year  ? ' 

"  '  You  have  some  property/  I  replied, '  and  can 
afford  to  take  it.' 

"  '  I  shall  not  take  it  under  any  circumstances/ 
was  his  answer. 

"  I  used  every  argument  I  could  think  of.     I 


128          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

plied  him  in  every  possible  way,  and  had  interview 
after  interview  with  him.  He  smoked  and  smoked, 
and,  as  I  entreated  and  begged  and  expostulated,  the 
smoke  would  come  thicker  and  faster.  Sometimes 
he  would  make  a  cloud  of  smoke  so  thick  that  I 
could  not  see  him.  I  guess  he  smoked  a  thousand 
cigars  while  he  was  settling  the  point.  He  would 
groan  and  smoke.  He  declared,  by  all  that  was 
sacred,  that  he  would  resist  the  tempter.  I  ap 
pealed  to  his  patriotism.  I  said  he  was  a  young 
man,  and  should  take  it  for  that  reason.  A  long 
judicial  life  was  the  only  useful  one  to  the  State. 
His  decisions  would  give  stability  to  the  govern 
ment.  And  I  made  him  believe  that  it  was  his 
duty,  —  as  I  think  it  was  under  the  circumstances ; 
and  the  result  has  justified  my  conclusion.  Al 
though  he  accepted  the  office  with  the  greatest  re 
luctance,  he  has  filled  it  with  unsurpassed  ability ; 
and  to-day  there  is  not  in  the  world  a  more  up 
right,  conscientious,  and  able  judge  than  Chief 
Justice  Shaw.  He  is  an  honor  to  the  ermine. 
For  that,  I  repeat,  the  people  of  Massachusetts  owe 
me  a  debt  of  gratitude,  if  for  nothing  else." 

Of  Judge  Sprague  Mr.  Webster  had  a  very  high 
opinion.  He  told  me  once  that,  of  the  members 
of  the  United  States  Senate,  among  the  first  as  a 
debater  was  Peleg  Sprague,  of  Massachusetts.  "  He 
is  what  I  call  a  very  eloquent  man.  He  is  able ; 
a  man  of  great  dignity ;  and  there  is  scarcely  his 
superior  in  the  Senate." 

George  Blake  was  one  of  Mr.  "Webster's  par 
ticular  friends,  although  he  was  fifteen  or  twenty 


AT  THE  EAR.  129 

years  his  senior,  and  had  pretty  much  retired 
from  practice  at  the  period  of  their  intimacy. 
They  were  often,  however,  on  opposite  sides  of 
cases.  They  lived  in  the  same  street  (Summer), 
and  there  was  a  close  friendship  between  their 
wives.  Mrs.  Blake  was  a  very  accomplished  wo 
man  ;  and  Mr.  Blake,  who  was  very  able  as  a 
lawyer,  and  a  noted  wit,  had  some  striking  pecu 
liarities.  One  was  a  habit  of  audacious  exaggera 
tion  in  his  statements,  which  seemed  perfectly 
natural  to  him.  Pie  often  said  things  which  were 
never  intended  to  be  believed ;  and  his  manner 
was  always  earnest.  Mr.  Webster  used  to  relate 
many  anecdotes  of  him  with  great  gusto. 

He  told  me  that,  on  one  occasion,  Mr.  Blake 
went  fishing  in  his  boat,  he  being  as  fond  of  that 
sport  as  was  Mr.  Webster  himself.  Mr.  Webster 
had  been  engaged  in  court,  and  had  just  reached 
home,  when  in  came  Mr.  Blake's  house-servant, 
bringing  a  splendid  cod  on  a  salver,  with  Mr. 
Blake's  compliments.  Mr.  Webster  asked  what 
luck  Mr.  Blake  had  had. 

"  First  rate,"  replied  the  man;  "  he  caught  one 
enormous  fish,  —  so  big  that  we  could  hardly  get 
him  into  the  boat." 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Blake  was  delighted,"  said  Mr. 
Webster.  «  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  said  he  would  give  an  ingot  of  gold  if 
Webster  was  there  to  see  it." 

Blake  was  a  visitor  at  Marshfield  in  its  early 
days,  at  a  time  when  the  guests  were  numerous, 
and  they  had  to  be  quartered  with  lodgings  in  the 


130  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

neighboring  farm-houses.  This  was  in  summer, 
and  Mr.  Blake  had  his  room  at  Porter  Wright's 
house,  a  little  way  off.  One  evening,  at  the  man 
sion,  something  was  said  about  the  next  day.  Be 
sides  the  family,  there  were  present  the  two  Misses 
White,  —  one  of  whom  afterwards  married  Fletcher 
Webster.  Both  were  beautiful  girls.  Miss  Ellen 
White  remarked :  — 

"  To-morrow  is  my  birthday." 

"  And  pray,"  said  Mr.  Blake,  "  may  I  be  allowed 
to  inquire  how  many  summers  have  dawned  on 
that  beautiful  brow  ?  " 

"  Eighteen/' 

"  Eighteen  summers  !  I  shall  feel  it  not  only  a 
duty,  but  a  very  great  privilege  and  a  high  obliga 
tion,  to  commemorate  the  event.  I  shall  do  it  in 
the  first  instance,  by  firing  eighteen  guns  from  my 
chamber  window  at  sunrise  to-morrow  morning." 

Next  morning  he  came  into  the  house. 

"Aha!"  said  Miss  White;  "just  what  I  sup 
posed.  The  men  are  always  very  willing  to  prom 
ise,  but  they  are  slow  to  fulfil  their  promises." 

He  expressed  a  good  deal  of  surprise. 

"  You  need  not  deny  it,"  said  she  •  "  you  prom 
ised." 

"  Yes,  Blake,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  the  young 
ladies  have  you.  It's  of  no  use ;  you  did  not 
cover  your  retreat  well." 

"  Even  in  uncivilized  communities,"  retorted  Mr. 
Blake,  "  those  who  are  accused  of  crime  are  in 
formed,  before  judgment  is  pronounced,  with  what 
crime  they  are  charged.  I  should  like  to  know 


AT   THE   BAR.  131 

in  what  I  have  offended  this  very  respectable 
family." 

"  You  have  forgotten,  Mr.  Blake." 

"  Forgotten  !     What  ?  " 

"  Why,  did  not  you  promise  to  fire  eighteen 
guns  this  morning  at  sunrise  from  your  chamber 
window,  in  honor  of  my  birthday  ?  '' 

"  Do  I  remember  ?  Have  I  forgotten  ?  Can  a 
mother  forget  her  sucking  child  ?  Forget  a  prom 
ise  made  to  you,  Miss  Ellen  White  ?  Never  !  " 

"  But  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  have  this  to  say  for  myself :  I  did  prom 
ise  most  solemnly  to  fire  eighteen  guns  from  my 
chamber  window  this  morning  at  sunrise,  in  honor 
of  Miss  Ellen  White's  birthday ;  but  I  have  not  the 
slightest  recollection  of  promising  that  you  should 
hear  them  ! " 

Blake  always  had  a  fire  in  his  library,  even  in 
July ;  and  people  would  come  in  and  say,  "  What 
have  you  got  a  fire  to-day  for?  "  It  was  rather 
hard  work  for  him  to  find  an  excuse  for  this  fire. 
One  day,  Mr.  Webster  was  speaking  of  Professor 
Smith,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  medical  depart 
ment  of  Dartmouth  College,  and  a  man  of  great 
intelligence  and  skill,  both  as  a  physician  and  sur 
geon.  He  held  the  post  rather  as  an  honorary 
one,  being  a  man  of  wealth.  He  was  very  benevo 
lent,  and  performed  operations  gratuitously  for  the 
poor,  spending  much  of  his  time  in  that  way ;  in 
deed,  Professor  Smith  gave  the  last  ten  years  of  his 
life  to  the  poor.  He  was  quite  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Webster,  being  an  old  acquaintance  of  his  father. 


132  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Mr.  Webster  used  to  visit  at  his  house,  when  in  col 
lege,  and  often  attended  his  lectures.  He  said  that 
he  received  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  and  instruction 
from  the  professor's  society.  On  one  occasion, 
Professor  Smith,  in  talking  about  his  experience 
with  the  diseases  of  the  poor,  said  that  he  thought 
there  was  more  suffering  from  want  of  proper  ven 
tilation  than  from  disease  itself.  He  added,  that  it 
had  been  very  much  impressed  upon  his  mind  that 
people  did  not  know  the  value  of  good  ventila 
tion.  He  often  had  been  called  to  cases  of  fevers 
and  the  like  among  poor  people ;  and,  upon  arriv 
ing  at  the  house,  he  would  find,  perhaps,  nobody 
but  a  child  in  attendance,  —  the  husband  and  sons 
being  away  at  work.  He  had  often,  before  even 
feeling  the  pulse  of  the  patient,  gone  to  the  wood 
shed,  taken  wood  and  split  it  up,  carried  it  indoors 
in  his  own  arms,  built  a  fire,  and  thrown  open  the 
windows  ;  and  he  could  see  the  patient  begin  to 
revive  before  he  had  thought  of  medicine.  Ventila 
tion  he  thought  of  the  utmost  importance  in  such 
cases. 

In  speaking  of  this  to  Mr.  Blake,  Mr.  Webster 
noticed  that  he  took  a  great  degree  of  interest  in  the 
story.  He  inquired  very  minutely  about  it ;  and 
the  next  thing  Mr.  Webster  knew,  Blake  was  using 
this  story  as  an  excuse  for  always  having  a  fire  in 
his  library.  When  he  was  asked  why  he  had  it, 
he  would  say  that  "  Professor  Smith  of  Dartmouth 
College,  —  whom  he  knew  very  well,  a  very  eminent 
man,  —  had  told  him  that  fires  were  absolutely  nec 
essary  for  the  preservation  of  health,  by  producing 


AT   THE  BAR.  133 

ventilation.  It  was  the  professor's  invariable  prac 
tice,  when  visiting  sick  patients,  if  he  did  not  find 
any  fire  in  the  room,  before  he  prescribed  or  felt 
the  patient's  pulse,  to  build  a  fire  and  throw  up 
the  windows.  I  have  always  felt  it  to  be  my  duty 
to  my  health  to  keep  a  little  fire  to  promote  venti 
lation."  Mr.  Webster  said  that  Blake  told  this  so 
many  times  that  he  probably  at  last  actually  came 
to  believe  that  he  was  the  person  with  whom  Pro 
fessor  Smith  had  conversed  on  the  subject. 

Blake,  in  speaking  once  of  what  he  had  seen  in 
Paris,  and  on  what  a  grand  scale  every  thing  was 
there,  said  :  "  You  can't  imagine  it.  I  saw  candles 
in  the  Palais  Royal  as  big  as  the  columns  in  front 
of  the  Tremont  House  (Boston) ;  and  some  of  them 
were  fluted !  " 

Although  Blake  was  a  very  eloquent  talker,  he 
had  a  hesitating  sort  of  way.  Mr.  Webster  told 
me  that  he  had  heard  Blake  argue  a  case,  and  try 
legal  questions,  with  as  much  eloquence  and  ability 
as  he  ever  heard  from  any  man.  He  had  no  flu 
ency,  and  would  hesitate  and  stutter ;  but  the  ideas 
and  the  language  were  very  fine.  Mr.  Webster  was 
very  fond  of  Blake,  for  their  tastes  were  quite  simi 
lar  ;  although,  in  the  matter  of  exaggeration,  they 
were  as  unlike  as  two  men  could  be.  Mr.  Webster 
was  a  most  exact  man  in  all  his  statements,  never 
overstating,  and  never  straining  an  expression  to 
make  a  flourish  of  speech.  If  he  was  arguing  a 
case  to  a  jury  where  there  was  a  chance  for  lati 
tude,  he  never  enlarged  on  the  truth.  He  kept 
everybody  down  to  the  facts ;  you  had  no  chance 


134:  KEMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

to  poetize  with  him.  Blake's  habit  amused  him 
very  much.  He  used  to  say  that  he  was  surprised 
that  any  man  should  resort  to  it,  and  especially 
Blake,  who  was  a  man  having  ideas  and  logic  and 
learning  of  his  own.  Still,  they  sympathized  in 
their  pleasures ;  both  were  very  fond  of  fishing 
and  shooting,  field  sports,  the  country,  and  country 
life.  Blake  was  a  healthy  man,  with  no  bad  habits , 
a  gentleman  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word. 

On  one  occasion,  Mr.  Webster  was  counsel  in  a 
case  in  which  Blake  was  on  the  other  side.  The 
matter  in  dispute  was  the  quality  of  a  parcel  of 
shoes.  A  down-east  logging-man  had  made  a  con 
tract  for  a  large  quantity  of  shoes ;  but,  upon  re 
ceiving  them,  thought  they  were  not  as  good  as  the 
contract  promised,  and  refused  to  pay  for  them. 
The  man  who  made  the  shoes  insisted  upon  having 
his  money,  and  sued  the  defendant.  Mr.  Webster 
brought  the  suit  for  the  shoe  manufacturer,  and 
Mr.  Blake  defended  the  purchaser.  It  became  a 
matter  of  less  moment  in  dollars  and  cents  than  of 
feeling,  the  fees  being  larger  than  the  whole  amount 
of  the  contract.  Mr.  Webster  took  occasion,  in 
referring  to  the  shoes,  to  remind  the  jury  that  it 
would  be  quite  as  safe  for  them,  when  they  retired 
to  deliberate  on  their  verdict,  to  remember  the 
testimony  as  it  was  given,  rather  than  his  learned 
brother's  statement  of  it,  as  he  was  somewhat  in 
the  habit  of  exaggeration.  Blake  was  always  indig 
nant  at  any  allusion  to  his  weakness,  and  this  remark 
nettled  him.  He  rose  to  reply,  and  said :  — 

"  The  learned  gentleman  on  the  other  side  has 


AT  THE  BAR.  135 

seen  fit  to  warn  you  against  what  he  is  pleased  to 
term  my  habit  of  exaggeration.  How,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  this  may  be  in  ordinary  cases  it  is  not 
worth  while  now  to  stop  to  inquire.  I  might  be 
ready  to  join  issue  with  that  distinguished  gentle 
man  on  that  point;  but  in  this  case  there  is  no 
occasion  for  it,  because  it  is  not  in  his  power,  with 
all  his  ability,  to  exaggerate  this  case.  There  is  no 
language  that  I  can  use  that  can  come  up  to  the 
fact.  The  counsel  has  told  you  that  these  shoes 
were  not  only  according  to  the  contract,  but  that 
they  were  good  shoes,  and  that  they  never  wore 
out.  I  grant  that  the  shoes  never  wore  out ;  but 
the  poor  unfortunate  men  who  wore  them,  did ! 
And  I  will  prove  by  indisputable  evidence,  to  your 
entire  satisfaction,  that  the  unfortunate  men  could 
be  traced  for  miles  by  the  blood  that  ran  from 
their  feet  by  the  action  of  the  pegs  that  were  put 
in  those  shoes  !  " 

Whenever  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Blake  went  out 
fishing  or  hunting  together,  the  latter  betrayed  a 
passion  for  excelling,  and  would  boast  of  catching 
more  fish  or  shooting  more  birds  than  his  com 
panion.  They  would  take  their  bags  and  lines,  and 
be  gone  for  hours.  On  their  return  with  the  result 
of  their  day's  sport,  Blake  would  say :  "  Well, 
Webster,  how  many  did  you  catch  ?  "  Mr.  Web 
ster  had  a  habit  of  answering  by  repeating,  "  How 
many  did  you  catch  ?  "  Blake  would  reply,  setting 
the  number  pretty  high,  and  Webster  would  then 
retort  by  stating  a  number  a  trifle  less ;  and  that 
would  satisfy  Blake.  Mr.  Webster  said  to  me  :  "  If 


136  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

I  Lad  told  my  gains  after  he  had,  and  had  named 
more,  he  would  have  been  very  unhappy.  He 
would  strain  a  point  tremendously  to  get  a  superior 
position  in  this  respect." 

One  day  I  was  going  down  Milk  Street  with  Mr. 
Webster,  and  he  suggested  that  he  wanted  to  buy 
a  chaise.  So  we  went  into  Bayley's  store ;  and, 
while  we  were  there,  Blake  came  in.  There  were 
some  very  nice  chaises  in  the  store,  and  we  looked 
them  over.  Blake  finally  said  to  me :  "  Do  you 
suppose  that  Webster  will  buy  one  of  these  chaises  ? 
If  he  does,  it  will  break  down  before  he  gets  to 
Marshfield.  I  have  a  chaise,  Harvey,  in  my  chaise- 
house,  that  I  have  owned  for  thirty  years.  Chaises 
that  are  made  now-a-days  aren't  good  for  any  thing. 
I  would  not  give  my  chaise,  thirty  years  old,  for  as 
many  chaises  like  these  as  you  could  put  between 
here  and  Worcester,  thills  under  !  " 

Mr.  Webster,  on  one  occasion,  was  going  to 
Marshpee  brooks  to  fish,  with  Blake,  Isaac  P. 
Davis,  Ben  Gorham,  and  Perkins.  They  went  on 
horseback,  leaving  Boston  in  the  morning,  and 
arriving  at  night  at  Mrs.  Hungerson's  hotel  in 
Plymouth,  where  they  lodged.  The  next  morn 
ing  they  were  to  go  on,  and  arrive  early  at  the 
fishing-ground.  But,  when  they  rose  in  the  morn 
ing,  it  was  raining  ;  in  fact,  it  was  an  old-fashioned 
New  England  rainy  day.  Of  course,  that  was  the 
end  of  the  sport  so  far  as  that  day  was  concerned ; 
for  they  were  on  horseback,  and  could  not  com 
fortably  ride  on  in  the  rain.  There  was  no  fishing 
and  no  moving,  and  they  took  to  whist.  As  only 


AT   THE  BAR.  137 

four  were  needed  to  make  up  the  game,  Mr.  Web 
ster,  who  was  not  fond  of  it,  said  :  — 

"  You  play  whist,  and  I'll  read  some  of  the  books 
and  briefs  I  have  in  my  saddle-bags,  and  amuse 
myself  in  my  way,  while  you  amuse  yourselves  in 
yours." 

It  was  a  little  cold  and  raw ;  he  sat  down  by 
a  table  to  study,  and  they  to  their  whist.  Mr. 
Webster  could  hear,  at  the  same  time,  all  their 
conversation.  Isaac  P.  Davis  and  Blake  were  part 
ners,  with  Perkins  and  Gorham  on  the  other  side. 
Blake  was  constantly  scolding  Davis. 

"  What  made  you  play  the  deuce  of  clubs  ? "  he 
would  say. 

Mr.  Davis  would  quietly  answer,  — 

"  Play  away,  and  don't  get  excited.  I  know 
what  I  am  about." 

"  Know  what  you  are  about !  I  should  like  to 
know  what  upon  earth  possessed  you  to  play  the 
deuce  of  clubs !  " 

"  Be  quiet ;  you'll  see  before  we  get  through  the 
game." 

"  I  shall  see  before  we  get  through  the  game ! 
Why,  you  played  the  deuce  of  clubs !  It  is  barely 
possible  that  you  may  live  long  enough  to  give  me 
a  satisfactory  reason  for  having  played  the  deuce 
of  clubs,  —  but  I  very  much  doubt  it." 

Pretty  soon  they  heard  a  tremendous  thump  on 
the  old  brass  knocker  of  the  door.  Mr.  Webster 
looked  up,  and  saw  that  Blake  was  annoyed  by  the 
repeated  knocks,  to  which  no  one  belonging  to  the 
house  seemed  to  answer.  Finally,  Blake  rose,  with 


138  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

his  cards  in  his  hand,  and  pulled  open  the  door. 
There  sat  a  tall,  stalwart  yeoman,  fully  six  feet 
high,  on  a  horse  about  as  large  in  proportion,  the 
rain  pouring  down  upon  him  without  hindrance. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Blake. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Hungerson." 

u  You  want  to  see  Mrs.  Hungerson !  If  you 
will  please  to  get  off  your  horse  and  come  into  the 
house,  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  be  able  to 
see  Mrs.  Hungerson." 

'"  I  can't  dismount,  nohow.     If  I  get  off,  I  can't 
get  on  again." 

"  So  you  can't  dismount-,  nohow  ?  "  said  Blake, 
with  a  quizzical  expression ;  and  he  pulled  the 
door  open  wide,  so  that  the  man  could  not  get 
hold  of  the  knocker,  and  left  him  standing  there. 
The  man,  after  waiting  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  in 
vain,  and  receiving  no  further  attention  from  any 
one,  finally  rode  off  in  despair,  and  Blake  then  got 
up  quietly  and  shut  the  door. 

It  is  always  interesting  to  know  what  estimate 
men  who. have  attained  fame  in  intellectual  pur 
suits  put  upon  their  own  powers,  and  to  compare 
this  with  the  estimate  of  others  who  have  had 
good  opportunities  of  observing  them.  In  early 
life,  Mr.  Webster  took  a  very  modest  view  of  his 
abilities  and  his  prospects  of  professional  success. 
His  ambition  was  never  fully  aroused  till  Governor 
Gore  advised  him  to  refuse  the  clerkship.  In  his 
letters  to  his  friends,  written  before  this,  he  often 
spoke  timidly  and  sometimes  disparagingly  of  his 
legal  attainments  and  prospects.  He  once  spoke 


AT   THE   BAR.  139 

of  a  young  lawyer  who  had  not  had  a  brilliant 
success,  but  whose  degree  of  success  would  amply 
satisfy  his  own  ambition.  That  he  was  conscious, 
however,  of  the  latent  powers  within  him  is  seen 
by  his  writing  for  the  papers  in  college,  and  deliv 
ering  a  Fourth  of  July  oration  during  his  college 
term.  He  never  shrank,  moreover,  even  at  that 
early  age,  from  any  responsibility  that  was  laid 
upon  him ;  and  whatever  he  undertook,  he  did 
well.  This  gained  him  distinction  among  his  col 
lege  mates,  who  did  not  hesitate  to  predict  great 
things  for  him. 

In  1802  he  wrote  to  a  classmate :  — 

"  The  talent  with  which  Heaven  has  intrusted 
me  is  small,  very  small ;  yet  I  feel  responsible  for 
the  use  of  it,  and  am  not  willing  to  pervert  it  to 
purposes  reproachful  or  unjust,  nor  to  hide  it,  like 
the  slothful  servant,  in  a  napkin.  If  I  prosecute 
the  profession,  I  pray  God  to  fortify  me  against  its 
temptations.  To  the  winds  I  dismiss  those  light 
hopes  of  eminence,  which  ambition  inspired  and 
vanity  fostered.  To  be  honest,  to  be  capable,  to 
be  faithful  to  my  client,  I  earnestly  hope  will  be 
my  first  endeavor." 

When  Mr.  "Webster,  laboring  under  the  affliction 
of  an  annual  catarrh al  cold,  or  hay  fever,  which 
was  very  painful  to  him,  was  obliged  to  keep  his 
eyes  shaded  most  of  the  time,  and  of  course  was 
unable  to  occupy  himself  in  reading  or  writing,  I 
used  to  go  and  sit  with  him,  and  read  and  talk  to 
him. 

Speaking  of  his  speeches,  one  day,  I  said :  — 


140          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  Mr.  Webster,  your  speech  in  answer  to  Hayne 
has  been  read,  I  think,  by  more  intelligent  persons 
than  any  speech  in  the  English  language." 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  he,  "  I  think  you  must  be  mis 
taken  about  that.  You  must  remember  that  the 
speeches  of  English  orators  and  statesmen  were 
not  reported,  as  ours  are ;  neither  were  the  Eng 
lish,  to  a  great  extent,  a  reading  people.  Every 
thing  that  is  worth  reading,  and  is  eloquent,  our 
people  read." 

After  a  pause,  he  went  on :  — 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  you  may  be  right  in  that. 
But  that  was  not  my  best  speech." 

I  said  that,  if  it  was  not  the  best  speech,  it  had 
the  greatest  fame. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose  it  has.  Neverthe 
less,  it  was  not,  in  my  judgment,  the  best  speech 
I  ever  made ;  but,  as  a  popular  effort,  it  was  un- 
doubte'dly  more  read  than  any  other  speech." 

"  What  do  you  regard  as  your  greatest  speech  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  My  forensic  efforts  have  been  those  which  have 
pleased  me  most.  The  two  arguments  that  have 
given  me  the  most  satisfaction  were  the  argument 
in  the  '  steamboat  case/  and  the  Dartmouth  College 
argument.  The  steamboat  case,  you  remember, 
was  a  question  of  the  constitutionality  of  the  right 
of  New  York  State  to  give  a  monopoly  to  Fulton, 
and  his  heirs  for  ever,  of  the  privilege  of  plying 
the  waters  of  the  Hudson  with  his  steamboats. 
The  value  of  such  a  right  was  not  then  and  could 
not  have  been,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  fully 


AT  THE  BAR.  141 

understood.  But  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  against 
the  very  essence  of  State  rights,  and  a  virtual 
dissolution  of  the  Union  in  a  commercial  sense. 
If  New  York  had  a  right  to  lay  tolls  upon  her 
rivers  for  everybody  that  should  pass,  then  all  the 
other  great  international  rivers  and  lakes  would 
have  the  same  right,  and  we  could  not  be  one  as  a 
commercial  people.  The  people  of  New  York  felt 
that  their  rights  were  at  stake  in  the  contest ;  and 
their  great  lawyers  —  and  they  had  many  of  them 
—  were  engaged  on  that  side ;  the  Livingstons 
and  Clintons  and  others  of  like  calibre.  Mr.  Wirt 
and  myself  were  employed  against  the  monopoly. 
When  the  case  came  to  be  argued  before  the 
supreme  court  at  Washington,  Chief  Justice  Mar 
shall  presiding,  Mr.  Wirt  and  myself  met  for  con 
sultation.  Mr.  Wirt  asked  me  upon  what  grounds 
I  based  my  case,  upon  what  clause  of  the  Consti 
tution.  He  had  a  right  to  ask,  as  he  was  my 
senior  in  years  and  professional  fame.  My  reply 
was,  that  the  clause  of  the  Constitution  which 
ceded  to  the  general  government  the  right  to 
regulate  commerce  was  that  upon  which  I  based 
my  defence.  Mr.  Wirt's  reply  to  that  was,  that  he 
did  not  see,  in  that  line  of  argument,  any  ground 
for  our  case  to  rest  upon.  I  said  :  '  Very  well ; 
what  is  yours  ?  '  So  he  told  me.  I  do  not  recol 
lect  what  it  was,  but  it  was  a  totally  different 
clause  in  which  he  found  the  grounds  for  his  argu 
ment.  I  said  to  him :  '  Mr.  Wirt,  I  will  be  as  frank 
with  you  as  you  have  been  with  me,  and  say  that 
I  do  not  see  the  slightest  ground  to  rest  our  case 


142  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

upon  in  your  view  of  it.'  (  Very  well/  replied  Mr. 
Wirt, '  let  us  each  argue  it  in  his  own  way,  and  we 
will  find  out  which,  if  either,  is  right.' 

"  The  case  came  on  for  argument.  Mr.  Wirt 
made  one  of  his  brilliant  arguments  before  the 
court.  I  followed  with  my  view. 

"  I  can  see  the  chief  justice  as  he  looked  at  that 
moment.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  always  wrote 
with  a  quill.  He  never  adopted  the  barbarous 
invention  of  steel  pens.  That  abomination  had 
not  been  introduced.  And  always,  before  counsel 
began  to  argue,  the  chief  justice  would  nib  his 
pen ;  and  then,  when  every  thing  was  ready,  pull 
ing  up  the  sleeves  of  his  gown,  he  would  nod  to 
the  counsel  who  was  to  address  him,  as  much  as  to 
say,  '  I  am  ready ;  now  you  may  go  on.' 

"  I  think  I  never  experienced  more  intellectual 
pleasure  than  in  arguing  that  naval  question  to  a 
great  man  who  could  appreciate  it,  and  take  it 
in ;  and  he  did  take  it  in,  as  a  baby  takes  in  its 
mother's  milk. 

"  The  result  of  the  case  was  just  this :  the  opin 
ion  of  the  court,  as  rendered  by  the  chief  justice, 
was  little  else  than  a  recital  of  my  argument.  The 
chief  justice  told  me  that  he  had  little  to  do  but  to 
repeat  that  argument,  as  that  covered  the  whole 
ground.  And,  which  was  a  little  curious,  he  never 
referred  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Wirt  had  made  an 
argument.  He  did  not  speak  of  it  once." 

Then  Mr.  Webster  added :  — 

"  That  was  very  singular.  It  was  an  accident,  I 
think.  Mr.  Wirt  was  a  great  lawyer,  and  a  great 


AT   THE  BAR.  143 

man.  But  sometimes  a  man  gets  a  kink,  and  doesn't 
hit  right.  That  was  one  of  the  occasions.  But  that 
was  nothing  against  Mr.  Wirt." 

When  Mr.  Webster  visited  Savannah,  in  1847, 
Hon.  J.  M.  Wayne,  one  of  the  judges  of  the  Su 
preme  Court,  welcomed  him.  His  address  contains 
the  following  paragraph,  illustrative  of  Mr.  Web 
ster's  influence  before  the  most  august  tribunal  in 
the  United  States.  Judge  Wayne  thus  addressed 
him  :  — 

"  When  the  late  Mr.  Thomas  Gibbons  deter 
mined  to  hazard  a  large  part  of  his  fortune  in  test 
ing  the  constitutionality  of  the  laws  of  New  York, 
limiting  the  navigation  of  the  waters  of  that  State 
to  steamers  belonging  to  a  company,  his  own  inter 
est  was  not  so  much  concerned  as  that  of  the  right 
of  every  citizen  to  use  a  coasting  license  upon  the 
waters  of  the  United  States,  in  whatever  way  his 
vessel  was  propelled.  It  was  a  sound  view  of  the 
law,  but  not  broad  enough  for  the  occasion.  It  is 
not  unlikely  that  the  case  would  have  been  decided 
upon  it,  if  you  had  not  insisted  that  it  should  be 
put  upon  the  broader  constitutional  grounds  of 
commerce  and  navigation.  The  court  felt  the  ap 
plication  and  force  of  your  reasoning,  and  it  made 
a  decision  releasing  every  creek  and  harbor,  river 
and  bay,  in  our  country  from  the  interference  of 
monopolies,  which  had  already  provoked  un 
friendly  legislation  between  some  of  the  States, 
and  which,  would  have  been  as  little  favorable  to 
the  interests  of  Fulton  as  they  were  unworthy  of 
his  genius." 


144  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

One  of  the  judges  who  made  the  decision  here 
admits  their  indebtedness  to  Mr.  Webster  for  the 
liberal  and  enlarged  views  of  the  Constitution  of 
a  sovereign  State  which  the  exigencies  of  the  case 
required.  Every  man  in  the  country  was  person 
ally  interested  in  a  decision  which  might  have  been 
in  accordance  with  the  partial  views  of  State  legis 
lation,  had  not  Webster's  logic  demolished  the  tem 
ple  of  their  idolatry.  Even  the  learned  court  might 
not  have  comprehended  the  full  importance  of  the 
question  to  be  adjudicated,  had  not  the  "  Defender 
of  the  Constitution  "  poured  light  upon  their  wait 
ing  minds  by  his  unanswerable  arguments.  I  have 
often  heard  Mr.  Webster  say  that  he  regarded  this 
decision  as  fraught  with  more  vital  consequences  to 
the  welfare  of  the  commerce  of  the  United  States 
than  any  other  ever  made. 

It  was  in  the  conversation  just  referred  to  that  I 
repeated  to  Mr.  Webster  an  eloquent  extract  from 
one  of  his  speeches.  Mr.  Webster  turned  towards 
me,  and  with  a  half-smile  said  :  — 

"  That  is  pretty  fine  ;  did  I  say  all  that  ?  " 

"  You  did,  sir."  And  I  mentioned  the  occasion 
to  him.1 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  I  got  that  impression  as  I 
stood  on  the  walls  of  Quebec  for  the  first  time ; 
and,  casting  an  imaginary  glance  over  the  broad 

1  The  passage  referred  to  was  in  a  speech  delivered  in  the  Senate, 
May  7,  1834,  on  the  "Presidential  Protest."  It  was  as  follows:  "A 
power  [the  British]  which  has  dotted  over  the  surface  of  the  whole 
globe  with  her  possessions  and  military  posts ;  whose  morning  drum 
beat,  following  the  sun,  and  keeping  company  with  the  hours,  circles 
the  earth  with  one  continuous  and  unbroken  strain  of  the  martial  airs  of 
England." 


AT  THE  BAR.  145 

extent  of  that  dominion,  thought  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  power  that  governed  half  a  civilized  globe 
by  her  superior  intellect.  And  I  was  proud,"  he 
added,  "  that  the  blood  of  the  Englishman  flowed 
in  my  veins  !  " 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  add  to  these  reminis 
cences  of  Mr.  Webster's  legal  career  Rufus  Choate's 
opinion  of  him  as  an  advocate.  No  man  knew  better 
how  to  address  a  court  or  jury  than  Rufus  Choate  ; 
he  was  most  persuasive,  forcible,  and  eloquent. 
He  often  met  Mr.  Webster  as  an  adversary,  and 
could  judge  well  of  his  legal  powers.  Mr.  Choate 
said  of  him :  — 

"  He  spoke  with  consummate  ability  to  the 
bench ;  and  yet  exactly  as,  according  to  every 
sound  canon  of  taste  and  ethics,  the  bench  ought 
to  be  addressed.  He  spoke  with  consummate 
ability  to  the  jury ;  and  yet  exactly  as,  according 
to  every  sound  canon,  that  totally  different  tri 
bunal  ought  to  be  addressed." 

Mr.  Webster  always  treated  the  bench  with  the 
studied  deference  which  judges,  by  reason  of  their 
office,  should  command  from  the  bar.  On  one  occa 
sion,  Mr.  Webster  was  engaged  in  a  case  in  a  New 
York  court,  in  which  he  was  preceded  by  John  Van 
Buren.  In  the  course  of  his  speech,  Mr.  Van  Buren 
rather  flippantly  congratulated  the  court  on  "  yield 
ing  to  the  popular  impulses  of  the  day."  Mr.  Web 
ster  began  his  reply  by  complimenting  his  opponent 
on  "  the  talent  and  legal  knowledge  of  his  address.'* 
He  then  went  on  to  speak  with  strong  censure  of 

Mr.  Van  Buren's  remark  about  "  yielding  to  popu- 

10 


146  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

lar  impulses."  "  This/'  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  may 
be  a  compliment ;  but  it  is  a  compliment  which  I 
would  not  address  to  this  court,  nor  to  any  court 
for  which  I  entertained  a  feeling  of  respect " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PUBLIC  LIFE. 

THE  public  career  of  Daniel  Webster,  as  states 
man  and  orator,  is  too  well  known  to  need  detailed 
repetition  in  these  pages.  The  record  of  it  exists 
in  the  volumes  of  his  speeches  and  in  the  work  of 
his  able  and  chosen  biographer.  The  most  lofty  and 
brilliant  passages  of  his  addresses,  whether  within 
or  outside  of  the  halls  of  Congress,  are  familiar  to 
every  schoolboy  throughout  the  land  ;  while  no 
historical  sketch,  however  slight,  of  the  political 
history  of  this  country  during  the  past  half  a  cen 
tury,  could  omit  giving  testimony,  by  a  record  of 
his  many  public  acts,  to  his  inestimable  value  as  a 
statesman  and  an  adviser  in  the  national  councils. 

A  few  dates  marking  events  in  his  public  life, 
however,  may  serve  to  lend  new  interest  to  the 
informal  personal  recollections  which  follow. 

Mr.  Webster  was  first  chosen  a  Representative 
to  the  national  House  of  Representatives  by  the 
Portsmouth  (N.  H.)  district,  and  took  his  seat  in 
May,  1813,  while  the  nation  was  still  engaged  in 
war  with  Great  Britain.  He  was  re-elected  in 
1815 ;  and,  at  the  end  of  his  second  term,  retired 
for  a  while  from  public  office,  removing  to  Boston 


148  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

during  the  interval.  In  1822,  he  was  once  more 
elected  to  Congress,  as  a  representative  of  Boston. 
He  continued  in  the  lower  House  of  Congress  from 
1822  to  1827,  when  he  was  chosen  a  United  States 
Senator  from  Massachusetts  for  the  full  term  of  six 
years.  Re-elected  in  1833.  and  again  in  1839,  he 
retired  from  the  Senate  in  1841  to  accept  the  office 
of  Secretary  of  State  under  President  Harrison. 
In  1839,  he  made  a  brief  tour  in  Europe.  Upon 
the  accession  of  President  Tyler,  Mr.  Webster, 
unlike  the  rest  of  the  Harrison  Cabinet,  remained 
in  office;  and,  in  1842,  he  concluded  the  famous 
treaty  with  Lord  Ashburton,  defining  the  north 
east  boundary  between  the  United  States  and 
Canada.  Retiring  from  the  State  Department 
shortly  after,  he  remained  in  private  life  until 
1845,  when  Massachusetts  once  more  sent  him  to 
the  Senate.  He  was  a  member  of  that  body  dur 
ing  the  eventful  period  of  the  Mexican  War,  and 
during  the  administration  of  President  Taylor. 
Upon  the  latter rs  death,  in  1850,  Mr.  Webster 
succeeded  John  M.  Clayton  as  Secretary  of  State, 
and  became  the  leading  member  of  President  Fill- 
more's  Cabinet.  In  this  high  office  death  found 
him. 

Mr.  Webster  was  several  times  a  prominent  can 
didate  for  the  Whig  nomination  to  the  Presidency 
of  the  United  States.  He  was  brought  before  the 
country  as  a  Presidential  candidate,  in  1834,  by 
the  Massachusetts  Whigs.  In  1840,  he  was  a  for 
midable  competitor  of  General  Harrison ;  and,  in 
1844,  of  Henry  Clay.  In  1848,  he  once  more 


PUBLIC  LITE.  149 

contested  the  nomination  at  Baltimore.  Again,  in 
1852,  and  for  the  last  time,  his  name  was  conspicu 
ous  among  those  who  were  in  the  field  for  the  choice 
of  the  Whigs,  at  Baltimore,  when  the  nomination, 
greatly  to  Mr.  "Webster's  disappointment  and  dis 
gust,  was  finally  awarded  to  Winfield  Scott. 

These  facts  being  stated,  I  proceed  to  give  such 
recollections  as  I  have  preserved  of  various  inci 
dents  and  opinions  relating  to  his  public  career. 

Beyond  all  doubt,  Mr.  Webster's  greatest  and 
most  renowned  oratorical  effort  was  his  speech  in 
reply  to  Robert  Y.  Hayne  of  South  Carolina,  deliv 
ered  in  the  Senate  on  Tuesday,  the  26th  of  Janu 
ary,  1830.  Mr.  Webster  was  fond  of  dwelling 
upon  this  speech  and  the  incidents  connected  with 
it,  and  prided  himself  very  much  upon  the  recep 
tion  it  met. 

I  heard  Mr.  Everett,  in  Mr.  Webster's  presence, 
relate  an  incident  connected  with  the  reply  to 
Hayne,  which  is  worth  repeating. 

Mr.  Everett  did  not  hear  the  Hayne  speech,  to 
which  Mr.  Webster  was  to  reply.  "  There  was,"  he 
said,  "  a  very  great  excitement  in  Washington, 
growing  out  of  the  controversies  of  the  day,  and  the 
action  of  the  South ;  and  party  spirit  ran  uncom 
monly  high.  There  seemed  to  be  a  preconcerted 
action  on  the  part  of  the  Southern  members  to 
break  down  the  Northern  men,  and  to  destroy 
their  force  and  influence  by  a  premeditated  on 
slaught. 

"  Mr.  Hayne's  speech  was  an  eloquent  one,  as  all 
know  who  ever  read  it.  He  was  considered  the 


150  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

foremost  Southerner  in  debate,  except  Calhoun, 
who  was  Vice-president  and  could  not  enter  the 
arena.  MrJHayne  was  the  champion  of  the  South- 
ern_side^.  Those  who  heard  his  speech  felt  much 
alarm,  for  two  reasons ;  first,  on  account  of  its  elo 
quence  and  power,  and  second,  because  of  its  many 
personalities.  It  was  thought  by  many  who  heard 
it,  and  by  some  of  Mr.  Webster's  personal  friends, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  answer  the  speech. 

"  I  shared  a  little  myself  in  that  fear  and  appre 
hension,"  said  Mr.  Everett.  "  I  knew  from  what 
I  heard  concerning  General  Hayne's  speech,  that 
it  was  a  very  masterly  effort,  and  delivered  with 
a  great  deal  of  power  and  with  an  air  of  triumph. 
I  was  engaged  on  that  day  in  a  committee  of  which 
I  was  chairman,  and  could  not  be  present  in  the 
Senate.  But,  immediately  after  the  adjournment, 
I  hastened  to  Mr.  Webster's  house,  with,  I  admit, 
some  little  trepidation,  not  knowing  how  I  should 
find  him.  But  I  was  quite  reassured  in  a  moment 
after  seeing  Mr.  Webster,  and  observing  his  entire 
calmness.  He  seemed  to  be  as  much  at  his  ease 
and  as  unmoved  as  I  ever  saw  him.  Indeed,  at 
first,  I  was  a  little  afraid  from  this  that  he  was  not 
quite  aware  of  the  magnitude  of  the  contest.  I  said 
at  once  :  — 
-f '  Mr.  Hayne  has  made  a  speech  ? ' 

" ( Yes,  he  has  made  a  speech/ 

" '  You  reply  in  the  morning  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes/  said  Mr.  Webster ;  '  I  do  not  propose  to 
let  the  case  go  by  default,  and  without  saying  a 
word/ 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  151 

u'Did  you  take  notes,  Mr.  Webster,  of  Mr. 
Hayne' s  speech  ? ' 

"  Mr.  Webster  took  from  his  vest  pocket  a  piece 
of  paper  about  as  big  as  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and 
replied,  '  I  have  it  all :  that  is  his  speech/ 

"  I  immediately  rose,"  said  Mr.  Everett,  "  and  re 
marked  to  him  that  I  would  not  disturb  him  longer ; 
Mr.  Webster  desired  me  not  to  hasten,  as  he  had 
no  wish  to  be  alone ;  but  I  left. 

"  The  next  morning  when  I  entered  the  Senate 
Chamber  and  listened  to  his  reply,  of  course  that 
was  an  end  of  apprehension.  The  speech  was  such 
a  triumphant  answer,  such  a  complete  refutation, 
not  only  in  the  judgment  of  friends  but  of  foes, 
that  it  left  nothing  to  be  wished  for.  "I 

In  connection  with  this  Hayne  speech,  Mr. 
Webster  once  told  me  this  incident. 

I  was  riding  with  him  one  morning  in  1846  or 
1847,  to  attend  a  cattle  fair  at  Dedham,  when  the 
conversation  turned  on  different  ways  of  preparing 
speeches.j/He  said  that  no  man  who  was  not  in 
spired  could  make  a  good  speech  without  prepara 
tion  ;  that,  if  there  were  any  of  that  sort  of  people, 
he  had  never  met  them.  He  added  that  it  had 
often  been  remarked  that  he  had  made  no  prepa 
ration  for  the  Hayne  speech. 

"  That  was  not  quite  so,"  said  he.  "If  it  was 
meant  that  I  took  notes  and  studied  with  a  view  to 
a  reply,  that  was  not  true  ;  but  that  I  was  thor 
oughly  conversant  with  the  subject  of  debate,  from 
having  made  preparation  for  a  totally  different  pur 
pose  than  that  speech,  is  true.  The  preparation  for 


152  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

my  reply  to  Hayne  was  made  upon  the  occasion  of 
Mr.  Foot's  resolution  to  sell  the  public  lands.  Some 
years  before  that,  Mr.  McKinley,  a  senator  from 
Alabama,  introduced  a  resolution  into  the  Senate, 
proposing  to  cede  the  public  domains  to  the  States 
in  which  they  were  situated.  It  struck  me,  at  that 
time,  as  being  so  unfair  and  improper  that  I  imme 
diately  prepared  an  argument  to  resist  it.  My 
argument  embraced  the  whole  history  of  the  pub 
lic  lands  and  the  Government's  action  in  regard  to 
them.  Then,  there  was  another  question  involved 
in  the  Hayne  debate.  It  was  as  to  the  right  and 
practice  of  petition.  Mr.  Calhoun  had  denied  the 
right  of  petition  on  the  subject  of  slavery.  In 
other  words,  he  claimed  that,  if  the  petition  was 
for  some  object  which  the  Senate  had  no  right  to 
grant,  then  there  was  no  right  of  petition.  If  the 
Senate  had  no  such  right,  then  the  petitioners  had 
no  right  to  come  there.  Calhoun's  doctrine  seemed 
to  be  accepted,  and  I  made  preparation  to  answer 
his  proposition.  It  so  happened  that  the  debate 
did  not  take  place,  because  the  matter  never  was 
pressed.  I  had  my  notes  tucked  away  in  a  pigeon 
hole ;  and,  when  Hayne  made  that  attack  upon  me 
and  upon  New  England,  I  was  already  posted,  and 
only  had  to  take  down  my  notes  and  refresh  my 
memory.  In  other  words,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  if 
he  had  tried  to  make  a  speech  to  fit  my  notes,  he 
could  not  have  hit  it  better.  No  man  is  inspired 
with  the  occasion ;  I  never  was."] 

There  are  many  anecdotes  about  what  took  place 
between  Mr,  Hayne  and  Mr.  Webster,  and  among 


PUBLIC  LIFI  153 

them  a  great  many  absurdities.  I  had  read  a  large 
number  of  these  stories ;  and  I  asked  Mr.  Webster 
about  the  truth  of  them.  Mr.  Webster  replied  : 

"  Not  one  of  them  is  true." 

He  said,  however,  that  it  was  true  that,  when  he 
had  finished  his  speech,  some  Southern  member, 
whose  name  he  did  not  mention,  approached  him 
cordially  and  said  :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster,  I  think  you  had  better  die  now, 
and  rest  your  fame  on  that  speech." 

Mr.  Hayne  was  standing  near  and  heard  the 
remark,  and  said  :  — 

"  You  ought  not  to  die :  a  man  who  can  make 
such  speeches  as  that  ought  never  to  die." 

Mr.  Webster  met  General  Hayne  at  the  Presi 
dent's  reception  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  and, 
as  he  came  up  to  him,  Mr.  Webster  remarked 
pleasantly :  — 

"  How  are  you  to-night  ?  " 

"  None  the  better  for  you,  sir,"  was  the  General's 
humorous  reply. 

^-  -  General  Hayne  remained  only  a  short  time  in 
/—public  life  after  that  debate.  He  seems  to  have 
lost  all  taste  for  the  Senate  after  his  signal  discom 
fiture.  He  visited  Mr.  Webster  at  Marshfield. 
Their  personal  relations  were  always  kindly  and 
affectionate,  and  these  were  never  disturbed. 

While  Mr.  Webster  was  Secretary  of  State,  under 
President  Fillmore,  a  young  clergyman,  who  was 
visiting  the  White  House,  sought  his  society  when 
ever  he  dined  there.  Once,  this  clergyman  hap 
pened  to  be  seated  next  to  Mr.  Webster.  After 


J54  REMINISCENCES   OF   DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

dinner,  Mr.  Webster  entered  into  a  free  conversa 
tion,  and  the  young  clergyman  made  bold  to  ask 
him  whether  the  Hayne  speech  was  really,  as  had 
been  asserted,  extemporaneous. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Webster ;  "  the  materials 
of  that  speech  had  been  lying  in  my  mind  for 
eighteen  months,  though  I  had  never  committed 
my  thoughts  to  paper,  or  arranged  them  in  my 
memory." 

He  was  then  asked  about  other  speeches  of  his, 
which  were  said  to  have  been  delivered  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  or  at  brief  notice. 

Mr.  Webster  opened  his  large  eyes,  with  appar 
ent  surprise,  and  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Young  man,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  extem 
poraneous  acquisition." 

The  word  "  acquisition "  was  exceedingly  well 
chosen.  Mr.  Webster  knew  that  there  was  extem 
poraneous  speaking  every  day.  What  he  evidently 
intended  to  convey  was,  that  knowledge  could  not 
be  acquired  without  study ;  that  it  did  not  come 
by  inspiration  or  by  accident. 

While  the  whole  country  was  resounding  with 
the  praises  of  his  reply  to  Hayne,  Mr.  Webster 
seemed  almost  unmoved  by  them,  and  to  be  scarcely 
conscious  of  the  great  forensic  victory  he  had 
achieved.  In  reply  to  a  letter  congratulating  him, 
from  Warren  Dutton,  he  wrote  as  follows,  on  the 
8th  of  March,  1830:  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  friendly  and  flattering 
letter.  Your  commendation  of  my  speech  was 
measured  less  by  its  merits  than  by  your  bounty. 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  155 

If  it  has  gratified  my  friends  at  home,  I  am  re 
warded  for  any  little  trouble  it  has  cost  me.  The 
whole  debate  was  a  matter  of  accident.  I  had  left 
the  court  pretty  late  in  the  day,  and  went  into  the 
Senate  with  my  court  papers  under  my  arm,  just 
to  see  what  was  passing.  It  so  happened  that  Mr. 
Hayne  rose  in  his  first  speech.  I  did  not  like  it, 
and  my  friends  liked  it  less.  I  never  spoke  in  the 
presence  of  an  audience  so  eager  and  so  sympa 
thetic.  The  public  feeling  here  was  on  our  side 
almost  invariably." 

A  gentleman,  who  enjoyed  Mr.  Webster's  con 
fidence,  hearing  him  on  one  occasion  praising 
Marshall,  King,  Gore,  Mason,  and  other  friends 
of  his,  when  he  first  entered  Congress,  expressed 
the  opinion  that  Mr.  Webster's  fame  would  outlive 
them  all,  and  that  his  speeches,  especially  the  one  in 
reply  to  Hayne,  would  be  read  in  the  schools  when 
all  that  they  had  said  would  be  forgotten.  Mr. 
Webster  replied  with  much  feeling  :  — 

"  That,  my  friend,  is  a  partial  speech,  dictated 
by  your  kindness  and  generosity.  Still,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  be  unaware  that  my  humble 
efforts  to  serve  my  country  have  been  useful,  and 
will  probably  influence  many  minds  in  years  to 


come." 


Writing  to  William  Plumer,  in  April,  1830,  Mr. 
Webster  thus  refers  to  the  Hayne  speech  :  — 

"  If  my  speech  has  done,  or  shall  do,  the  slight 
est  good,  I  shall  be  sufficiently  gratified.  I  am 
willing  to  confess  that,  having  the  occasion  thus 
forced  upon  me,  I  did  the  best  I  could,  under  its 


156  KEMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

pressure.  The  subject  and  the  times  have  given 
it  a  degree  of  circulation,  to  which  its  own  merits 
would  not  have  entitled  it.  Connected  with  this 
subject,  one  good  thing,  excellent  and  most  im 
portant,  will  ere  long  be  made  known.  At  pres 
ent,  it  is  locked  up  in  confidence.  All  I  can  say 
is  —  and  I  would  not  have  this  repeated,  except, 
perhaps,  to  your  father  —  that  the  world  will  one 
day,  perhaps  a  not  distant  one,  know  Mr.  Madison's 
sentiments  on  these  constitutional  questions,  fully 
and  precisely ;  together  with  his  understanding  of 
the  Virginia  Resolutions  of  1797-98.  It  will  be  an 
important  paper." 

The  allusion  to  Mr.  Madison's  opinions  refers, 
with  little  doubt,  to  a  highly  laudatory  letter 
which  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Webster  after  the  reply  to 
Hayne. 

In  another  letter,  written  soon  after  the  debate, 
Mr.  Webster  said  :  — 

"  You  are  very  civil  in  what  you  say  about  my 
speech.  It  has  made  much  more  noise  than  it 
deserved.  The  times  favored  its  impression." 

It  is  related  that  Judge  Story  called  on  Mr. 
Webster  on  the  evening  previous  to  the  delivery  of 
the  speech,  and,  after  expressing  some  anxiety  as 
to  the  result  of  the  debate,  offered  to  aid  him  in 
looking  up  materials  to  be  used  in  his  reply.  Mr. 
Webster  thanked  him,  and  said :  "  Give  yourself 
no  uneasiness,  Judge  Story ;  I  will  grind  him  as 
fine  as  a  pinch  of  snuff !  " 

Apropos  to  Mr.  Webster's  oratorical  powers, 
certainly  no  one  could  have  been  a  more  critical 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  157 

judge  of  them  than  that  other  and  only  less  cele 
brated  orator,  Edward  Everett,  ^r.  Everett  once 
said  to  me,  that  nothing  impressed  him  more 
with  Mr.  Webster's  extraordinary  talent,  than  the 
speeches  he  delivered  when  making  his  trip  over 
the  Erie  Railroad. 

"  I  took  pains/'  said  Mr.  Everett,  "  to  read  every 
speech  he  made,  from  the  time  that  he  left  Wash 
ington  till  he  got  back  to  New  York.  He  made 
eleven  speeches,  distinguishing  between  speeches 
and  mere  snatches  of  remarks  at  stations.  They 
were  made  when  he  was  well  advanced  in  years, 
and  probably  every  one  of  them  was  extempora 
neous.  He  could  not  have  known,  when  he  went 
out  of  the  cars  to  the  platform,  what  he  was  going 
to  say,  and  yet  every  one  of  them  was  singularly 
adapted  to  the  place  and  occasion ;  indeed,  each 
speech  was  so  complete,  that,  if  he  had  intended 
only  to  make  any  one,  and  had  carefully  prepared 
it,  it  could  not  have  been  improved.  Every  one  of 
those  eleven  speeches  —  and  I  have  read  them  care 
fully  —  would  have  added  greatly  to  the  reputation 
of  any  other  man  in  the  United  States :  made  as 
they  were  without  preparation,  they  impressed  me 
more  than  any  thing  else  with  his  extraordinary 
capacity." 

One  day  I  was  repeating  to  Mr.  Webster  some 
extracts  from  one  of  his  speeches,  when  he  inter 
rupted  me,  saying, — 

"  Why,  you  know  more  about  my  speeches  than 
I  do.  I  never  read  them.  I  once  undertook  to 
read  my  eulogy  on  Adams  and  Jefferson ;  but  I 


158  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

choked  up,  and  could  not  go  on.  You  are  more 
familiar  with  them  than  I  am." 

I  once  heard  Mr.  Webster  make  an  amusing 
comparison,  apropos  of  the  criticisms  which  so 
freely  assailed  his  "  7th  of  March  "  speech.  We 
were  on  State  Street  one  day,  and  I  proposed  that 
we  should  go  into  the  North  American  Insurance 
office,  and  see  who  was  there. 

We  found,  among  others,  Benjamin  Rich  and 
Caleb  Loring.  After  some  general  conversation, 
Mr.  Rich  said  :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster,  they  are  assailing  you  about  your 
7th  of  March  speech ;  I  hope  you  will  say  some 
thing  in  your  defence." 

Mr.  Webster  smiled,  and  replied :  — 

"  I  knew  an  old  deacon  down  in  Connecticut,  — 
a  pious,  good  old  man,  —  who  shared  the  fate  of 
many  other  good  men  in  being  slandered  without 
cause.  He  took  no  notice  of  the  accusations  made 
against  him,  but  as  they  were  uncontradicted 
they  spread ;  and,  by  being  repeated  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  of  course  they  lost  nothing,  and  finally 
came  to  the  minister's  ears.  The  rumors  began 
to  be  spoken  in  an  audible  voice.  At  last  his 
pastor  went  to  him,  and  said :  '  They  are  saying 
so  and  so  about  you.  I  don't  suppose  it's  true, 
but  why  don't  you  say  something  to  deny  it  ?  ' 
The  old  deacon  replied :  f  I  always  make  it  a  rule 
never  to  clean  out  the  path  till  the  snow  has  done 
falling/  I  am  of  the  deacon's  way  of  thinking ; 
and  I  don't  think  I  shall  clean  out  the  path  till  it 
has  done  snowing." 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  159 

Speaking  of  his  purpose  in  making  the  7th  of 
March  (1850)  speech,  Mr.  Webster  wrote  to  a 
friend  in  September  of  that  year  :  — 

"  Long  before  General  Taylor's  death,  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  risk  myself  on  a  proposition  for  a 
general  pacification.  I  attempted  to  sound  two 
New  England  men,  but  found  them  afraid.  I  then 
resolved  to  push  my  skiff  from  the  shore  alone, 
considering  that,  in  such  a  case,  if  I  should  be 
foundered,  there  would  be  but  one  life  lost." 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  habit,  as  the  reader  may  have 
already  observed,  of  illustrating  his  ideas  and 
opinions  by  happy  anecdotes  and  comparisons ; 
and  these  he  used  in  regard  to  serious  as  well  as 
unimportant  matters.  He  would  often  charac 
terize  the  political  situation  of  the  hour  by  this 
device,  hitting  the  mark  exactly.  This  faculty  is 
well  shown  in  what  he  said  to  Mr.  Crowninshield 
about  the  troubles  in  the  Jackson  administration, 
in  1832.  The  administration  appeared  to  be  on 
the  point  of  breaking  up  in  confusion.  General 
Jackson  had  quarrelled  with  Mr.  Calhoun,  the  Vice- 
president,  and  difficulties  had  occurred  in  the  Cabi 
net.  It  looked  as  if  the  Government  would  soon 
come  to  a  dead-lock.  Mr.  Crowninshield's  son,  a 
young  man,  was  visiting  Washington,  where  his 
father  was  serving  as  member  of  Congress  from 
the  Essex  district.  The  father  and  son  were  riding 
up  to  the  Capitol  one  morning,  when  they  observed 
Mr.  Webster  walking  in  the  same  direction.  Mr. 
Crowninshield  the  elder  told  his  coachman  to  stop, 
and  asked  Mr.  Webster  to  take  a  seat  in  the  car- 


160  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

riage.  He  did  so,  and  on  the  way  the  conversation 
turned  on  existing  troubles. 

"  How  is  the  administration  going  to  get  along, 
Mr.  Webster  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Crowninshield.  «  What 
is  to  be  the  result  of  these  difficulties  ?  The  Presi 
dent  and  Vice-president  are  not  on  speaking  terms ; 
the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  has  resigned,  and 
there  is  a  general  state  of  anarchy." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Webster,  "  I  hardly  know. 
Did  you  ever  see,  in  the  country,  an  old  rickety 
sled,  loaded  with  green  wood  to  the  tops  of  the 
stakes,  creaking  and  shrieking  along  over  the 
cradle-holes,  at  which  you  look  with  amazement 
that  it  does  not  fall  to  pieces  ?  But,  somehow  or 
other,  it  gets  to  its  place  of  destination,  unloads 
its  wood,  and  goes  back  for  another  load.  I  think 
the  old  thing  will  rub  along  somehow ;  but  how,  I 
don't  know." 

Mr.  Webster  became  Secretary  of  State  under 
General  Harrison,  in  1841.  They  had  no  interview 
before  he  was  appointed.  It  was  done  by  corre 
spondence  ;  by  an  offer  of  the  place  on  the  part 
of  General  Harrison  by  letter,  and  acceptance  by 
letter  on  that  of  Mr.  Webster.  They  did  not  meet 
until  eight  or  ten  days  previous  to  the  inaugura 
tion.  General  Harrison  arrived  at  Washington, 
from  Cincinnati,  about  the  time  Mr.  Webster  ar 
rived  from  Massachusetts.  Mr.  Webster  was  in 
vited  by  Mr.  Seaton,  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
"  National  Intelligencer,"  and  a  very  warm  per 
sonal  friend  of  his,  to  come  to  his  house,  as  he 
would  be  more  quiet  there,  and  less  exposed  to 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  161 

intrusion  than  at  a  hotel ;  and  to  stay  until  he 
should  get  a  house  and  move  his  family  into  it. 
He  was  constantly  occupied  with  General  Harrison 
on  matters  connected  with  the  formation  of  the 
Cabinet,  from  early  morning  until  the  dinner  hour, 
which  was  six  o'clock.  It  seems  that  he  had  pre 
pared  an  inaugural  message  for  General  Harrison. 
One  day,  among  other  arrangements,  he  suggested 
to  the  new  President,  in  as  delicate  a  way  as  he 
could,  the  fact  that  he  had  sketched  an  inaugural, 
knowing  that  General  Harrison  would  be  over 
whelmed  with  calls  and  business  after  his  election, 
and  he  himself  having  leisure  to  write.  The  Gen-  - 
eral  at  once  replied  that  it  was  not  necessary  ;  that 
he  had  prepared  his  own  inaugural. 

"  Oh  yes/'  said  he,  "  I  have  got  that  all  ready." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  take  it  home  and  read  it 
to-night?  "  asked  Mr.  Webster. 

"  Certainly,"  the  President  replied  ;  "  and  please 
to  let  me  take  yours." 

So  they  exchanged  the  documents;  and  the 
next  morning,  when  they  met,  General  Harrison 
said  to  Mr.  Webster :  — 

"  If  I  should  read  your  inaugural  instead  of  mine, 
everybody  would  know  that  you  wrote  it,  and  that 
I  did  not.  Now,  this  is  the  only  official  paper 
which  I  propose  to  write,  for  I  do  not  intend  to 
interfere  with  my  secretaries;  but  this  is  a  sort 
of  acknowledgment  on  my  part  to  the  American 
people  of  the  great  honor  they  have  conferred 
upon  me  in  elevating  me  to  this  high  office ;  and 

although,  of  course,  it  is  not  so  suitable  as  yours, 

11 


162  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

still  it  is  mine,  and  I  propose  to  let  the  people 
have  it  just  as  I  have  written  it.  I  must  deliver 
my  own  instead  of  yours." 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  that  he  was  a  good  deal 
annoyed  ;  because  the  message  was,  according  to 
his  judgment  and  taste,  so  inappropriate.  It  en 
tered  largely  into  Koman  history,  and  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  about  the  States  of  antiquity  and  the 
Koman  proconsuls,  and  various  matters  of  that 
kind.  Indeed,  the  word  "  proconsul "  was  repeated 
in  it  a  great  many  times. 

When  he  found  that  the  President  was  bent 
upon  using  his  own  inaugural,  Mr.  Webster  said 
that  his  desire  was  to  modify  it,  and  to  get  in  some 
things  that  were  not  there,  and  get  out  some  things 
that  were  there  ;  for,  as  it  then  stood,  he  said,  it  had 
no  more  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  the  American  gov 
ernment  and  people  than  a  chapter  in  the  Koran. 
Mr.  Webster  suggested  to  General  Harrison  that  he 
should  like  to  put  in  some  things,  and  General 
Harrison  rather  reluctantly  consented  to  let  him 
take  it.  Mr.  Webster  spent  a  portion  of  the  next 
day  in  modifying  the  message.  Mrs.  Seaton  re 
marked  to  him,  when  he  came  home  rather  late 
that  day,  that  he  looked  fatigued  and  worried ;  but 
he  replied  that  he  was  sorry  that  she  had  waited 
dinner  for  him. 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence  at  all,  Mr.  Webster," 
said  she ;  "  but  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  looking  so 
worried  and  tired.  I  hope  nothing  has  gone  wrong. 
I  really  hope  nothing  has  happened." 

"  You   would   think  that   something   had   hap- 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  163 

pened,"  lie  replied,  "if  you  knew  what  I  have 
done.  I  have  killed  seventeen  Roman  proconsuls 
as  dead  as  smelts,  every  one  of  them !  " 

Perhaps  the  official  act  with  which  Mr.  Webster's 
name  was  most  prominently  connected,  which  called 
forth  more  adverse  criticisms  on  the  one  hand,  and 
more  encomiums  on  the  other,  than  any  other  of  his 
public  life,  was  the  negotiation  of  the  so-called  Ash- 
burton  treaty.  This  he  negotiated  while  Secretary 
of  State  in  President  Tyler's  Cabinet.  The  object 
of  the  treaty  being  to  define  certain  boundaries 
between  the  United  States  and  the  British  posses 
sions  in  America,  Lord  Ashburton  was  sent  to  this 
country  for  the  purpose,  and  came  in  great  state 
in  an  English  man-of-war.  I  recall  one  incident 
relating  indirectly  to  that  treaty,  in  which  a  dis 
tinguished  rival  statesman  bore  a  conspicuous  but 
not  very  pleasant  part. 

General  Cass  was  our  minister  at  the  French 
Court  at  the  time  the  Ashburton  treaty  was  nego 
tiated  and  ratified.  He  had  been  sent  to  Paris  by 
Mr.  Van  Buren ;  and  he  was  not  recalled  on  the 
accession  of  General  Harrison.  General  Cass  was, 
in  his  own  estimation  and  that  of  his  friends  (and 
this  opinion  was  afterwards  confirmed  by  the  act 
of  the  National  democratic  Convention),  the  promi 
nent  Democratic  candidate  for  the  Presidency.  He 
took  occasion,  just  before  asking  his  recall  from 
Mr.  Tyler's  administration,  to  make  a  written  pro 
test  to  the  State  department  against  the  provisions 
of  the  treaty ;  although  he,  not  being  the  minister 
accredited  by  the  United  States  to  the  nation  with 


164          EEMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

whom  the  treaty  was  made,  had  really  no  business 
with  it.  Everybody  saw  that  it  was  done  for  polit 
ical  effect  at  home.  There  were  many  criticisms 
on  the  treaty;  among  others,  that  it  made  too 
great  concessions  to  England  :  and  General  Cass 
seemed  to  have  the  idea  that  any  thing  said  in 
hostility  to  England  would  be  popular  at  home. 
So  he  made  this  elaborate  protest,  and  addressed 
it  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  asked  to  be  re 
called,  giving,  as  his  reason,  that  he  could  no  longer 
be  of  use  to  his  country  abroad. 

He  came  in  one  of  the  British  steamers  to  Bos 
ton.  I  remember  it  well.  A  great  demonstration 
was  made  in  his  honor  by  the  Democratic  politicians. 
He  had  been  absent  several  years  in  France.  He 
was  a  very  prominent  public  man.  He  had  been 
in.  Jackson's  Cabinet,  possessed  large  wealth  and 
wide  political  influence,  and  was  one  of  the  leaders 
of  his  party.  He  spent  a  day  or  two  in  Boston. 
He  was  surrounded  by  the  leading  Democrats, 
prominent  among  whom  was  Mr.  Bancroft.  Gen 
eral  Cass  took  occasion  to  say  confidentially  to  Mr. 
Bancroft,  that  he  had  written  a  despatch  to  Mr. 
Webster  about  the  Ashburton  treaty,  protesting 
against  its  provisions ;  which  letter,  if  it  were  ever 
published,  would  overwhelm  Mr.  Webster  with 
obloquy.  "  Most  likely,"  said  General  Cass,  "  he 
will  take  very  good  care  of  this  sort  of  official 
despatch,  and  keep  it  buried  in  the  department ; 
but  if  it  should  come  out,  it  would  cover  him  with 
humiliation."  So  delighted  were  Mr.  Bancroft 
and  his  friends,  that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  tell 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  165 

it  in  their  circles,  and  spoke  of  it  as  something 
which  was  going  to  overwhelm  Mr.  Webster  with 
confusion. 

It  seems  that  the  despatch  had  been  received  at 
the  State  department  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks 
before  General  Cass  returned ;  and  that  Mr.  Web 
ster  had  replied  to  it,  and  sent  that  reply  to  Gen 
eral  Cass  at  Philadelphia,  that  being  the  point 
where  he  thought  he  would  be  most  likely  to  re 
ceive  it.  To  General  Cass's  great  astonishment, 
his  letter  to  Mr.  Webster,  and  Mr.  Webster's  reply 
to  it,  were  soon  after  published  in  the  official  organ 
at  Washington.  Mr.  Webster's  reply  to  General 
Cass's  protest  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  pieces 
of  irony  that  was  ever  addressed  by  one  man  to 
another.  It  put  him  in  a  light  in  which  no  one 
would  care  to  be  held  up.  General  Cass,  when  he 
got  the  reply,  saw  at  once  where  it  placed  him ; 
that  it  made  him  almost  a  laughing-stock,  instead 
of  overwhelming  Mr.  Webster  with  confusion.  A 
leading  Democrat  and  politician,  one  of  Cass's 
friends,  said  to  me  :  — 

"  What  a  fool  he  was  to  attack  Webster  !  No 
matter  whether  he  was  right  or  wrong ;  the  man 
who  attacks  Webster  in  correspondence  has  got  to 
have  the  worst  of  it,  anyhow.  I  never/'  he  added, 
"  saw  a  man  so  completely  overwhelmed." 

When  General  Cass  went  to  Washington  to  pay 
his  respects  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  was  re 
ceived  by  him,  he  said  to  Mr.  Webster :  — 

"  I  have  read  your  reply,  and  it  has  overwhelmed 
me.  It  is  more  than  I  can  bear ;  it  is  terrible." 


166  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 

"  It  is  no  more  so/'  replied  Mr.  Webster,  "  than 
the  circumstances  warrant.  In  the  first  place,  the 
whole  tone  and  purport  of  your  despatch  was  en 
tirely  out  of  place ;  it  was  none  of  your  business 
to  protest  against  the  Ashburton  treaty,  any  more 
than  it  was  that  of  any  private  citizen.  The  Con 
stitution  places  the  treaty-making  power  in  the 
hands  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  and 
the  Senate.  The  President  made  the  treaty,  and 
the  Senate  ratified  it  by  a  decided  majority ;  and 
that  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  What  you  had 
to  do  with  it,  Heaven  only  knows ;  I  cannot  see." 

"  Well,  now,  Webster,"  said  General  Cass,  "  as 
to  a  friend,  I  say  to  you  that  I  cannot  afford  to 
have  the  thing  rest  there ;  I  shall  be  filled  with 
mortification,  and  shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of 
the  country.  What  I  want  you  to  do,  is  to  let 
me  reply  to  your  despatch,  and  to  agree  in  advance 
that  you  will  not  rejoin." 

"  Your  request  is  entirely  inadmissible,"  returned 
the  Secretary ;  "  it  cannot  be.  This  is  a  public 
matter ;  if  it  were  a  mere  personal  matter,  it  would 
be  different.  You  began  a  correspondence  with 
me  which  makes  an  assault  on  my  official  character 
as  Secretary  of  State,  and  a  reply  is  made  to  it  to 
show  the  absurdity  of  your  propositions ;  and  then 
you  ask  to  throw  back  a  shaft  at  me,  and  beg  that 
I  will  not  defend  myself.  No,  I  cannot  do  any 
thing  of  the  kind." 

"  Well,"  said  General  Cass,  "  let  me  write  you  a 
letter  and  show  it  to  you,  and  you  may  fix  it  in 
any  way  you  please." 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  167 

k'  I  cannot  do  it,"  replied  Mr.  "Webster  ;  "  if  you 
reply  to  my  despatch,  you  must  do  it  officially,  and 
I  shall,  if  it  requires  an  answer,  give  you  one ;  if 
not,  I  shall  not  answer  it.  You  can  judge  of  that 
as  well  as  I." 

General  Cass  did  reply  to  it,  but  very  tamely. 
Mr.  Webster  made  a  rejoinder,  in  a  very  short 
note,  and  demolished  it  completely. 

When  Lord  Ashburton  came  to  this  country  to 
negotiate  the  treaty  known  by  his  name,  Mr.  Web 
ster  wished,  after  settling  the  boundary  question, 
to  discuss  the  question  of  the  right  of  search.  He 
said  to  me  that  he  had  long  wished  for  an  opportu 
nity  to  express  his  views,  in  a  way  that  would  have 
weight,  on  that  long-disputed  subject.  Nothing 
had  surprised  him  more  than  the  failure,  on  the 
part  of  eminent  American  statesmen,  to  get  at 
the  real  point  of  that  controversy. 

"  Even  John  Quincy  Adams,"  said  he,  "  with  all 
his  knowledge  of  diplomacy  and  international  law, 
failed,  I  think,  to  meet  the  case ;  and  if  he  failed 
to  meet  it,  it  would  be  pretty  hard  for  anybody 
else  to  meet  it,  for  he  was  exceedingly  apt  in 
those  things.  Mr.  Adams  talked  about  latitudes 
and  longitudes :  that  conceded  away  the  whole 
case.  In  my  judgment,  there  was  but  one  course, 
—  flatly  to  deny  the  right.  Nothing  short  of  that 
would  meet  the  trouble.  That  is  the  only  ground 
to  take.  Every  ship  that  sails  the  ocean  must  find 
its  protection  in  its  flag.  Well,  when  I  proposed, 
after  the  boundary  question  was  done  with,  to  settle 
this  disputed  question,  Lord  Ashburton  said  he  did 


168  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

not  wish  me  to  write  him  any  letters  on  that  sub 
ject.  Consequently,  the  despatch  which  I  wrote 
on  the  right  of  search  was  sent  to  our  minister  to 
present  to  the  English  minister.  Mr.  Everett  was 
then  our  envoy  to  the  Court  of  St.  James.  He  told 
me  that  he  read  the  despatch  to  the  Earl  of  Aber 
deen  j  who  was  foreign  secretary,  and  who  was  a 
tough-headed,  bluff  old  Scotchman.  As  usual,  he 
did  not  pay  much  attention  at  first  to  the  reading ; 
but  finally  he  became  interested,  and,  interrupting, 
said  :  '  Won't  you  read  that  again,  Mr.  Everett  ? ' 
He  did  so,  and,  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  reading, 
Lord  Aberdeen  asked  for  a  copy  of  the  despatch. 
'  Mr.  Everett/  said  he,  '  that  American  Secretary 
of  State  writes  very  extraordinary  papers.  That 
is  a  remarkable  document.  The  argument  in  that 
paper  cannot  be  answered.  Mr.  Webster  has  got 
the  right  of  it.'  Mr.  Everett  of  course  enjoyed  the 
compliment  very  much ;  and,  after  parting  from 
the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  he  received  a  note  from  him 
requesting  that  he  would  please  consider  their 
conversation  private  and  confidential.  The  next 
time  they  met,  the  Earl  said :  '  I  have  not  altered 
my  opinion  about  that  despatch.  It  has  been  be 
fore  her  Majesty's  ministers,  and  they  say  it  must 
be  answered ;  but  I  do  not  know  who  is  going  to 
answer  it.'  And  Lord  Aberdeen  was  right :  the  ar 
gument  is  unanswerable.  There  was  no  very  extra 
ordinary  ability  in  my  paper,  but  the  common  sense 
of  the  thing  was  apparent.  The  English  govern 
ment  turned  round  and  attempted  to  say :  '  Then, 
you  will  allow  your  flag  to  be  desecrated  to  the 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  169 

practices  of  piracy.  A  suspicious  looking  craft 
may  be  sailing  under  the  flag,  and  a  cruiser  may 
have  every  reason  to  suppose  that  she  is  a  pirate, 
and  she  cannot  be  brought  to.'  Now,  I  claim  no 
such  thing  as  that.  If  there  is  a  robber  in  a  man's 
house,  and  you  break  down  the  doors  and  go  in, 
and  find  you  have  got  a  robber,  you  are  all  right ; 
but,  if  you  find  that  he  is  not  a  trespasser,  you 
must  pay  the  damage :  and  that  is  precisely  what 
I  say  in  this  matter.  You  can  stop  and  search  this 
supposed  pirate  ;  and  if  she  is  a  pirate,  and  has  as 
sumed  a  flag  that  does  not  belong  to  her,  then  let 
her  be  dealt  with  as  such.  But  suppose  it  turns  out 
that  you  were  mistaken ;  that  she  is  no  pirate,  but 
a  lawful  ship,  pursuing  her  voyage  for  her  owners 
with  regular  papers,  and  that  the  cruiser  was  mis 
taken.  What  then  ?  Pay  the  damage,  just  as  you 
would  do  in  any  other  case  of  trespass.  That  is 
the  distinction.  If  you  had  the  right  to  stop  every 
body,  it  would  kill  all  commerce." 

This  despatch  of  Mr.  Webster  was  never  an 
swered.  He  said  :  "  There  is  one  thing  you  may 
rely  upon.  The  English  government  have  never 
answered  that  despatch  of  mine  denying  the  right 
of  search,  because  they  cannot.  The  common 
sense  of  the  thing  settles  that.  But  they  will, 
perhaps,  never  admit  it  either.  The  English 
minister  will  not  probably  sit  down  and  write  a 
despatch,  saying  that  he  is  convinced  that  the  Eng 
lish  view  is  wrong.  But  they  will  never  again 
attempt  to  exercise  the  right  of  search.  When  the 
issue  arises  again,  they  will  abandon  it."  And  the 


170  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

result  has  so  proved.  During  Mr.  Buchanan's  ad 
ministration,  the  question  did  come  up  ;  and  when 
our  Government  called  England  to  account  for 
attempting  to  exercise  the  right  of  search,  they 
hastened  to  disclaim  it,  and  at  once  gave  orders  to 
their  cruisers  not  to  touch  any  ship  sailing  with 
the  American  flag.  They  apologized  to  our  Gov 
ernment,  and  declared  that  the  vessels  which  had 
been  engaged  in  searching  American  ships  had 
transcended  their  orders.  The  question  was  settled 
by  Mr.  Webster,  and  not  by  the  Buchanan  admin 
istration.  He  said  to  me  :  "  That  thing  is  settled. 
I  have  had  letters  from  English  statesmen,  admit 
ting  to  me  that  the  right  of  search  was  out  of  the 
question,  and  that  they  could  do  no  less  than  yield 
the  point.  My  argument  could  not  be  answered, 
and  the  English  government  would  not  practically 
attempt  to  enforce  it." 

After  the  election  of  General  Taylor  to  the  Presi 
dency,  the  members  of  the  Massachusetts  Electoral 
College  met,  as  usual,  to  have  a  dinner,  —  the 
practice  being  then  for  the  Suffolk  elector  to  give  a 
dinner  to  the  other  members  of  the  college.  There 
had  been  a  good  deal  of  excitement.  The  electors 
for  Suffolk  and  Middlesex  were  Albert  Fearing  and 
Isaac  Livermore,  both  of  whom  were  pretty  active 
politicians.  They  agreed  to  unite  in  giving  the 
dinner,  and  to  invite  the  active  political  men  in 
the  city  and  State  to  attend  it.  I  think  there 
were  one  hundred  and  twenty  plates  laid  at  the 
Tremont  House  for  this  occasion.  Mr.  Webster 
was  on  the  point  of  leaving  for  Washington  with 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  171 

his  family,  he  then  being  a  Senator.  He  was  in 
vited  by  Mr.  Fearing  to  be  present  at  this  dinner. 
It  was  inconvenient  for  Mr.  Webster  to  remain  in 
town,  but  he  was  strongly  urged  both  by  Mr. 
Fearing  and  myself ;  and  at  last  he  said :  — 

"  I  will  make  a  sacrifice  of  my  personal  conven 
ience,  and  accept  your  invitation.  Besides,  if  I 
did  not  go,  it  might  be  said  that  I  was  not  satisfied 
with  the  election  of  General  Taylor,  which  is  not 
the  fact.  I  am  quite  glad  that  he  is  elected,  al 
though  I  think  it  was  a  nomination  not  fit  to  be 
made.  I  am  glad  of  his  election,  if  he  is  a  Whig, 
as  I  trust  he  is." 

At  the  dinner  he  sat  at  Mr.  Fearing's  right,  and 
of  course  he  was  the  first  person  called  upon  to 
respond  to  a  toast.  He  made  one  of  his  conver 
sational,  sensible  speeches,  in  which  he  referred 
to  the  occasion  that  had  called  the  assembly  to 
gether,  —  to  cast  their  votes  for  a  Whig  President ; 
saying  that  the  event  was  a  subject  of  congratula 
tion  to  the  Whigs  of  Massachusetts ;  that,  however, 
when  General  Taylor  was  nominated,  considering 
that  he  never  had  been  in  public  life,  that  he  was 
not  even  a  civilian,  nor  a  man  whose  views  on  the 
great  national  issues  were  well  known,  he  (Web 
ster)  had  felt  some  doubts  about  the  General's  fit 
ness  for  the  Presidency ;  but  that  he  had  no  doubt 
General  Taylor  was  a  man  of  honor,  and  that  hav 
ing  accepted  the  nomination  of  the  Whig  party,  and 
been  elected  by  them,  he  would  now  carry  out  their 
views.  He  believed  him  to  be  an  honest  man,  and 
the  more  he  had  heard  of  him  since  his  election, 


172          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

the  better  pleased  he  was  with  him.  He  wound 
up  by  saying,  that,  whether  in  public  or  in  private 
life,  General  Taylor's  administration,  if  governed 
by  the  principles  which  brought  it  into  power, 
should  have  his  cordial  support.  "  There  is  no 
more  contented  man,"  he  added,  "around  this 
board  or  in  Massachusetts,  than  I  am."  Great  ap 
plause  followed,  and  speeches  were  then  made  by 
some  of  the  high  officials  present,  among  whom 
were  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court.  Governor 
Briggs  was  present  and  made  a  speech,  in  which 
he  took  occasion  to  say  that  his  pleasure  in  the 
result  of  the  election  was  not  unalloyed  ;  that  if 
they  could  have  been  there  to  congratulate  one 
another  upon  throwing  the  electoral  vote  for  their 
own  great  statesman,  who,  he  believed,  would  have 
received  the  votes  of  the  United  States  if  he  had 
been  nominated,  he  should  have  been  glad ;  that 
when  he  thought  they  might  have  had  a  man  so 
fitted  and  so  deserving,  it  somewhat  marred  the 
pleasure  of  the  triumph  to  a  Massachusetts  man. 
This  was  received  with  loud  cheers,  and  the 
speakers  who  followed  seemed  to  be  animated 
by  the  same  feeling  of  regret,  —  that  they  could 
not  congratulate  Massachusetts  upon  the  eleva 
tion  of  her  own  great  son  and  statesman  to  this 
office.  A  great  many  speeches  were  made,  and 
after  a  while  it  came  the  turn  of  Mr.  Abbott 
Lawrence. 

He  rose,  and  said :  — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  rise  to  address  you,  and  to  ex 
press  my  feelings,  with  different  sentiments  from 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  173 

those  of  the  gentlemen  who  have  preceded  me. 
My  candidate  is  in.  I  repeat,  that  I  have  no  re 
grets  ;  for  my  candidate  is  in.  Gentlemen  now 
say  they  have  found  out  that  General  Taylor  is  a 
Whig,  and  a  man  of  ability,  integrity,  and  honesty. 
I  knew  it  at  the  time.  I  had  the  evidence  in  my 
pocket  that  General  Taylor  was  not  only  a  Whig 
but  a  man  of  ability,  of  the  sternest  integrity,  and 
of  the  highest  patriotism ;  and  I  say  here  now, 
from  my  acquaintance  with  General  Taylor,  and 
from  the  evidence  I  have  in  my  pocket,  that  it  is 
my  firm  opinion,  —  asserted  with  all  the  responsi 
bilities  that  belong  to  my  position  and  to  what  I 
say,  —  that,  since  General  Washington,  the  father  of 
his  country,  filled  the  Presidential  chair,  no  more 
worthy  or  fit  person  has  been  selected  to  fill  that 
chair  than  General  Zachary  Taylor." 

There  were  a  few  hisses  and  a  general  feeling 
of  annoyance.  The  table  was  in  an  uproar,  and 
everybody  looked  at  Mr.  Webster.  It  seemed  to 
be  a  direct  insult  to  him.  He  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  with  his  head  resting  on  his  hands. 
His  son  Fletcher  spoke  to  me,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  hope  father  will  say  something  ; "  and  went 
round  to  speak  to  him. 

Mr.  Webster  said  to  him  :  — 
"  I  think  I  will  speak  before  I  leave." 
After  Mr.  Lawrence  sat  down,  Mr.  Fearing  rose 
and  said  that  their  illustrious  guest  was  about  to 
retire,  as  he  had  a  long  journey  to  make  on  the 
next  day ;  but,  before  leaving,  he  would  propose  a 
sentiment.     Every  one  listened  with  intense  inter- 


174  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

est  and  even  excitement,  as  Mr.  Webster  rose  with 
a  majestic  grace,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  am  about  to  propose  a  sentiment  to  which  I 
know  every  gentleman  here  present  will  respond 
with  all  his  heart.  I  am  about  to  propose  to  you,  and 
do  now  propose  to  you,  this  sentiment :  The  State 
of  Massachusetts —  the  Bay  State  —  the  State  that 
contains  within  its  borders  Boston,  Concord,  Lexing 
ton,  Bunker  Hill,  and  Faneuil  Hall — the  mother 
of  States  —  the  Eevolutionary  State  !  It  is  fit  and 
proper  on  all  occasions,  when  any  considerable  num 
ber  of  the  sons  of  Massachusetts  are  assembled  for 
any  festive  purpose,  especially  on  an  occasion  like 
this,  that  they  should  not  fail  to  remember,  with 
feelings  of  deep  gratitude  and  affection,  this  ancient 
and  venerable  Commonwealth ;  that  they  should 
repeat  the  vow  to  stand  by  her  and  her  interests. 
Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen,  I  was  not  born  on 
the  soil  of  Massachusetts;  I  am  not  a  native  of 
the  old  Commonwealth  :  but  Massachusetts  early 
adopted  me,  and  for  an  unprecedented  length  of 
time,  in  a  public  capacity,  has  adhered  to  me  with 
a  fidelity  and  warmth  of  affection  that  calls  for  my 
most  hearty  acknowledgments.  For  it  I  thank 
her,  now  and  always.  On  more  than  one  occasion, 
she  has  expressed  for  me,  in  resolutions  and  in 
other  forms,  her  desire  that  I  should  fill  that  office, 
—  the  highest  in  the  gift  of  any  people.  For  that 
I  thank  her,  now  and  always.  On  one  occasion, 
she  has  given  to  me  her  vote  in  the  College  of 
Electors,  assembled  as  you  are  to-day.  For  that 
I  thank  her.  On  a  recent  occasion,  through  her 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  175 

accredited  organs,  at  a  national  convention  com 
posed  of  Whigs,  she  has  expressed  her  unanimous 
preference  for  me  for  that  office.  For  that  I 
thank  her ;  ay,  and  honor  her,  too,  most  pro 
foundly.  She  could  have  done  nothing  less,  let 
me  say,  consistently  with  her  own  self-respect  and 
honor.  My  friends,  you  will  bear  me  witness  that 
I  seldom  speak  of  myself ;  but  there  are  times 
when  a  public  man  may  so  speak.  I  say  here  and 
now,  that  I  am  quite  aware  that  I  am  a  man  of 
considerable  public  importance,  not  only  within 
the  boundaries  of  Massachusetts,  but  without  her 
boundaries,  and  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  this  continent.  [Great  shouting.]  I  took  occa 
sion,  when  you  did  me  the  honor  and  kindness  to 
call  on  me  before,  to  express  my  respect  for  and 
confidence  in  General  Taylor;  and  to  say  that 
I  believed  he  was  an  honest  man  and  a  Whig,  and 
that  I  trusted  he  would  surround  himself  with  men 
of  ability  and  experience,  and  would  administer 
the  government  upon  Whig  and  national  prin 
ciples  ;  that,  from  what  I  had  learned  of  his  char 
acter  —  which  was  very  little  —  as  a  public  man, 
previous  to  his  being  nominated  for  this  office,  I 
considered  him  an  honest  man.  I  have  said  that, 
with  the  aid  of  the  abler  men  whom  he  may  call 
around  him,  he  may  administer  the  government  on 
Whig  principles ;  and  I  have  further  said  that,  so 
far  as  my  influence  goes,  it  shall  be  given  in  sup 
port  of  his  administration,  if  it  is  so  conducted. 
Having  said  this  much,  I  will  not  so  far  forfeit  my 
self-respect  as  to  say  that  I  think  this  man  fitted 


176  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

for  this  high  trust.  He  is  not  fitted  for  it.  He 
lays  claim  to  no  high  qualifications  himself.  No 
intelligent  man  lays  any  such  claim  for  him." 

Great  shouting  and  some  hisses  followed  this 
speech. 

During  the  month  of  June,  after  the  inaugura 
tion  of  President  Taylor,  I  drove,  in  company  with 
Mr.  Webster,  from  Washington  to  the  Virginia 
shore,  to  a  place  called  "  the  Falls."  As  we  were 
passing  through  Alexandria,  Mr.  Webster  ordered 
the  coachman  to  stop ;  and,  pointing  to  an  old  and 
decaying  mansion,  he  said  :  — 

"  That  large  white  house,  with  dilapidated  walls 
and  broken  fences,  was  the  hotel  where  I  boarded 
when  I  first  entered  Congress  from  New  Hamp 
shire.  It  was  then  the  Federal  headquarters. 
Governor  Gore,  Kufus  King,  and  John  Marshall 
were  fellow-boarders.  Governor  Gore  used  to 
drive  out  of  that  gate  in  a  coach  drawn  by  four 
horses,  and  attended  by  servants  in  livery." 

After  proceeding  thus  far,  Mr.  Webster  seemed 
to  be  lost  in  a  profound  reverie,  and  apparently 
soliloquizing,  he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  All  gone  !  All  gone  !  They  were  extraordi 
nary  men.  We  shall  never  see  their  like  again ! 
Our  country  has  no  such  men  now ;  but  they  are 
gone  !  all  gone  !  I  shall  soon  follow,  and  I  care 
very  little  how  soon.'* 

He  was  deeply  affected,  even  to  tears.  Being 
quite  excited  by  the  scene,  I  attempted  to  awaken 
more  pleasing  emotions  in  his  mind.  After  a  brief 
pause,  I  said  to  him :  — 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  177 

"  I  know  that  you  will  give  me  credit  for  sin 
cerity  in  what  I  am  about  to  say,  for  neither  my 
taste  nor  my  sense  of  propriety  would  allow  me  to 
address  flattery  to  you.  You  will  pardon  me,  I 
trust,  while  I  express  my  decided  conviction  that, 
when  future  generations  shall  pass  those  places 
which  your  residence  or  your  eloquence  has  ren 
dered  immortal,  their  reverence  for  your  name  and 
character  will  as  far  exceed  that  awakened  by  the 
memory  of  the  men  you  have  named,  as  their 
character  transcends  that  of  ordinary  men." 

He  turned  toward  me  his  burning  eyes,  still 
suffused  with  tears,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  my 
arm,  he  said  :  — 

"  That  is  very  strong  language.  A  part  of  it 
must  be  attributed  to  your  partiality  and  warm 
friendship.  Still,"  he  added,  a  I  am  not  unaware, 
—  and  it  would  be  affectation  in  me  to  deny  it,  — 
that  I  have  a  public  reputation  to  leave  to  posterity ; 
but  it  has  been  earned  with  difficulty  !  If  I  were 
to  live  my  life  over  again,  with  my  present  experi 
ence,  I  would,  under  no  circumstances  and  from 
no  considerations,  allow  myself  to  enter  public  life. 
The  public  are  ungrateful.  The  man  who  serves 
the  public  most  faithfully  receives  no  adequate  re 
ward.  In  my  own  history,  those  acts  which  have 
been,  before  God,  the  most  disinterested  and  the 
least  stained  by  selfish  considerations,  have  been 
precisely  those  for  which  I  have  been  most  freely 
abused.  No,  no  !  have  nothing  to  do  with  politics. 
Sell  your  iron ;  eat  the  bread  of  independence ; 

support  your  family  with  the  rewards  of   honest 

12 


178  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

toil ;  do  your  duty  as  a  private  citizen  to  your 
country,  —  but  let  politics  alone.  It  is  a  hard  life, 
a  thankless  life.  Still,  I  know  it  has  its  compen 
sations.  There  are  some  green  spots,  occasional 
oases  in  the  life  of  a  public  man;  otherwise  we 
could  not  live.  The  conviction  that  the  great 
mass  of  the  intelligent  and  patriotic  citizens  of 
your  country  approve  of  well-directed  efforts  to 
serve  them  is  truly  consoling.  That  confidence 
on  the  part  of  my  fellow-citizens,  I  think  I  pos 
sess.  I  have  had,  in  the  course  of  my  official  life, 
—  which  is  not  a  short  one,  —  my  full  share  of 
ingratitude ;  but  the  unkindest  cut  of  all,  the 
shaft  that  has  sunk  deepest  in  my  breast,  has  been 
the  refusal  of  this  administration  to  grant  my  re 
quest  for  an  office  of  small  pecuniary  consideration 
for  my  only  son." 

He  then  straightened  himself  up,  and,  with  con 
scious  dignity,  added  :  — 

"  I  have  not  deserved  such  treatment.  I  have 
served  my  country  too  long  and  too  assiduously  to 
receive  such  a  slight  from  this  administration. 
However,  let  us  say  no  more  about  it ;  the  whole 
thing  is  too  contemptible  to  claim  from  me  a  mo 
ment's  thought.  Drive  on,  Dennis  !  "  cried  he  to 
the  coachman. 

In  all  Mr.  Webster's  long  public  life,  he  very 
rarely  asked  the  Government  for  favors  for  himself 
or  friends.  He  often  interceded  for  those  who 
asked  his  aid  in  securing  offices  for  themselves ; 
indeed,  a  very  large  portion  of  the  letters  left  on 
file  by  him  are  petitions  of  all  sorts  of  people  for 


PUBLIC   LIFE.  179 

places  of  trust  and  profit  supposed  to  be  in  his  gift, 
or  to  be  commanded  by  his  influence.  It  would 
appear  from  this  correspondence  that,  when  men 
want  offices,  they  make  personal  applications  for 
them  ;  that  most  men  who  obtain  executive  pat 
ronage  secure  it  by  their  own  importunity ;  and 
that  men  who  thus  apply  for  places  of  power 
always  hold  a  high  opinion  of  their  own  quali 
fications.  Sometimes  the  request  for  office  is  a 
general  one,  indicating  a  willingness  to  serve  their 
country  in  any  capacity  that  will  secure  them  a 
competency.  Sometimes  anxious  mothers,  with 
the  garrulity  of  dotage,  ask  for  appointments  for 
their  promising  sons,  bearing  ample  testimony  to 
their  qualifications  for  any  desirable  place  in  the 
gift  of  the  Government.  Again,  some  amiable  wife, 
unfortunately  wedded  to  an  inefficient  husband, 
begs  of  a  friend  at  Washington  to  call  on  the  Sec 
retary,  and  ask  for  some  office.  In  some  instances, 
ambitious  young  men  ask  for  the  secret  of  the  Sena 
tor's  success  in  life,  alleging  that  they  have  taken 
him  for  their  model,  and  desire  most  earnestly  that 
he  would  give  them  some  rules  for  the  regulation 
of  their  conduct,  that  they  may  attain  to  a  like 
eminence  with  himself. 

A  very  large  number  of  these  letters  are  simply 
complimentary,  originating,  evidently,  from  every 
variety  of  motive.  Some  persons,  though  entire 
strangers,  are  moved  by  an  overpowering  sympa 
thy  with  Mr.  Webster's  expressed  opinions,  or  by 
unfeigned  admiration  of  his  oratory,  to  reveal  to 
him  their  secret  worship,  and  offer  to  him  the 


180  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

incense  of  cordial  approval.  Others  wish  to  force 
themselves  into  notice,  and  condescend  to  patronize 
a  great  man's  sentiments.  Others,  high-minded 
and  honorable  men,  express  their  approbation  of 
the  conduct  of  a  public  man,  from  patriotic  motives, 
because  they  verily  believe  that  he  is  doing  his 
country  noble  service. 

Mr.  Webster  was  exceedingly  averse  to  direct 
personal  applications  for  office.  His  general  rule 
was  never  to  petition  for  himself  or  his  friends. 
His  sentiments  on  this  point  frequently  appear  in 
his  correspondence.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Ketch um, 
in  1848,  he  says  :  — 

"  Sometimes  members  of  Congress  obtain  an 
influence  with  the  Executive  by  assiduity  and  im 
portunity.  These  are  not  accordant  with  my 
habits.  I  could  volunteer  no  advice;  and,  in  the 
course  of  things,  my  advice  would  be  seldom 
asked,  notwithstanding  I  might  be  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  President/' 

At  the  time  of  the  difficulty  in  New  Orleans 
with  the  Spanish  consul,  Don  Calderon  de  la 
Barca  was  the  minister  plenipotentiary  residing  at 
Washington.  The  controversy  had  been  pretty 
much  settled  between  the  two  Governments,  by 
diplomatic  notes.  Don  Calderon,  wishing  to  do 
something  to  make  himself  important  to  his  Gov 
ernment,  called  one  day  on  the  Secretary  of  State 
to  present  the  claims  of  the  Spanish  consul  for 
pecuniary  remuneration.  He  gave  his  own  account 
of  the  interview  to  a  third  person.  He  said :  "I 
did  call  on  Mr.  Webster;  I  did  make  a  formal 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  181 

demand  upon  the  government  of  the  United 
States  for  pecuniary  compensation  for  the  losses 
sustained  by  the  Spanish  consul,  by  the  mob.  I 
stated  my  complaint  and  demand.  I  did  it  with 
precision  and  force.  When  I  got  through,  what 
do  you  think  Mr.  Webster  said  to  me  ?  He  rose 
from  his  chair ;  he  made  me  one  bow,  and  he  said  : 
'  Good  morning,  Don  Calderon  ;  good  morning, 
Don  Calderon ;  good  MORNING  ; '  and  I  did  leav^ 
the  room ! " 

The  French  minister  asked  Mr.  Webster,  while 
Secretary  of  State,  whether  the  United  States 
would  recognize  the  new  government  of  France 
under  Louis  Napoleon.  The  Secretary  assumed  a 
very  solemn  attitude,  saying  :  "  Why  not  ?  The 
United  States  has  recognized  the  Bourbons,  the 
Republic,  the  Directory,  the  Council  of  Five  Hun 
dred,  the  First  Consul,  the  Emperor,  Louis  XVIII., 
Charles  X.,  Louis  Philippe,  the  — "  "Enough, 
enough ! "  cried  the  French  minister,  perfectly 
satisfied  with  such  a  formidable  citation  of  consis 
tent  precedents. 

Mr.  Webster  was  making  a  short  visit  to  Marsh- 
field  in  1851,  the  year  after  he  delivered  his  7th  of 
March  speech  ;  and  the  citizens  of  Boston,  without 
distinction  of  party,  invited  him  to  a  meeting  in 
Faneuil  Hall,  where  they  might  receive  him,  and 
take  him  by  the  hand.  He  had  reluctantly  ac 
ceded  to  this  request.  Mr.  Choate  was  to  address 
him  on  the  part  of  the  citizens.  The  preliminaries 
had  been  arranged  as  such  things  always  are,  the 
day  fixed,  and  the  formality  gone  through  —  which 


182  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

was  regarded  as  only  formality  —  of  procuring  a 
petition  of  a  hundred  signers  for  the  use  of  the 
Hall  on  that  day.  The  proposed  reception  was 
openly  announced ;  and  it  was  arranged  that  Mr. 
Webster  should  be  received  by  the  citizens  without 
distinction  of  party,  and  be  addressed  by  Mr.  Choate 
on  their  behalf.  We  sent  our  petition  to  the  Mayor 
and  Aldermen,  at  their  Monday  meeting  :  Thursday 
was  the  day  fixed  for  the  reception.  On  Tuesday 
morning,  what  was  our  astonishment,  on  looking  at 
the  proceedings  of  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  to 
find  that  they  had  voted  that  the  citizens  who  had 
petitioned  should  not  have  the  Hall  for  the  desired 
purpose.  Upon  inquiry,  it  was  ascertained  that 
the  reason  given  was,  that  Wendell  Phillips  and 
the  Abolitionists  having  asked  for  the  Hall,  and  it 
having  been  refused  to  them  by  the  city  govern 
ment,  for  fear  of  a  riot,  they  therefore  could  not 
consistently  grant  the  Hall  to  any  one  else. 

I  do  not  think  I  ever  knew  so  much  indignation 
expressed  by  people  of  all  shades  of  politics,  as 
there  was  on  this  occasion.  There  was  one  perfect 
storm  of  indignation.  When  the  Mayor  and  Alder 
men  found  out  what  the  feeling  was,  they  were 
about  as  severely  frightened  as  any  class  of  official 
men  that  I  ever  knew.  They  undertook  by  cards 
in  the  papers  to  explain  their  action.  They  said 
that  there  was  no  disrespect  intended  to  Mr.  Web 
ster  and  his  friends,  and  all  that.  However,  there 
was  the  significant  fact  that  Faneuil  Hall  had  been 
refused  to  Mr.  Webster  and  his  friends,  and  it  must 
go  out  to  the  country  and  the  world.  All  classes 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  183 

of  people  were  expressing  their  opinions.  Some 
were  for  doing  this,  and  others  for  doing  that,  and 
all  sorts  of  propositions  were  made. 

I  felt  that  Mr.  Webster  would  see  the  exact  po 
sition  of  the  thing,  and  that  his  own  judgment 
would  dictate  to  him  the  course  to  pursue.  Mr. 
Choate  sent  for  me,  and  said  :  — 

"  Of  course  this  thing  will  be  given  up.  Mr. 
Webster  will  place  these  people  in  the  position  in 
which  they  should  be  placed.  The  city  govern 
ment  of  Boston  undertakes  to  compare  him  and 
his  friends  with  the  Abolitionists  and  Garrisonites, 
and,  because  the  Hall  was  refused  to  them,  they 
refuse  it  to  Mr.  Webster  and  his  friends.  It  shows 
the  character  and  calibre  of  the  city  government 
of  Boston.  The  only  thing  Mr.  Webster  has  to 
do,  —  and  I  don't  think  he  will  need  any  advice  on 
the  subject,  —  will  be  to  throw  himself  upon  his 
dignity,  as  his  friends  certainly  will." 

I  had  spoken  to  Fletcher  Webster,  who  lived 
near  his  father,  and  who  was  going  out  on  the  two 
o'clock  train,  and  asked  him  to  communicate  to  his 
father  all  the  facts.  I  told  Mr.  Choate  that  he  had 
better  write  a  note  in  the  mean  time,  and  give  it  to 
Fletcher,  which  he  did ;  and  there  we  rested  it. 

But  Mr.  Choate  came  to  my  house  when  I  was 
at  dinner,  about  three  o'clock,  and  said :  — 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  down.  Fletcher  has 
gone  down  and  carried  the  note ;  but  I  think  your 
presence  will  be  the  best  explanation  you  can  give. 
For  I  think  Mr.  Webster  will  feel  very  badly,  and 
he  cannot  know  but  that  this  action  of  the  city 


184  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

government  represents  the  citizens.  But  you  can 
assure  him  that  it  represents  only  a  paltry  handful 
of  men.  He  will  be  very  unhappy  if  you  don't." 

I  acted  upon  his  advice,  took  the  four  o'clock 
train,  and  went  to  Kingston.  The  weather  was 
very  stormy.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the  great 
storm  which  continued  three  days,  and  carried 
away  the  Minot-Ledge  Lighthouse.  I  was  at  Mr. 
Webster's  when  the  Lighthouse  was  swept  away. 
When  I  reached  his  house  in  Marshfield,  it  was 
raining  in  torrents.  I  jumped  out  upon  the  piazza, 
and,  as  I  passed  opposite  the  window,  I  looked  in ; 
and,  noticing  Mr.  Webster  sitting  by  the  open  fire 
in  his  dressing  gown,  and  Mrs.  Webster  at  the 
centre-table  in  the  rear,  I  could  not  help  pausing  a 
moment  before  I  went  in,  to  gaze  upon  the  picture. 
I  saw  upon  his  face  an  expression  of  deep  thought. 
I  rang  the  bell.  Mrs.  Webster  did  not  wait  for 
the  servant,  but  came  to  the  door  herself.  As 
soon  as  she  saw  me,  she  lifted  up  her  hands,  and 
exclaimed :  — 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  come,  our  good 
angel  ?  Did  you  drop  down  from  heaven  in  the 
clouds  ?  How  did  you  come  from  Boston  ?  Where 
is  your  horse?" 

"  The  horse  has  gone  back  to  Kingston,"  I  replied. 

As  for  Mr.  Webster,  I  have  often  been  received 
by  him  with  great  cordiality,  but  I  do  not  think  1 
ever  saw  him  so  delighted  to  see  me  as  he  was 
then.  His  demonstration  was  very  marked,  and 
he  used  the  most  kind  and  endearing  expressions. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  before  you  say  a  single  word, 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  185 

you  must  just  take  off  your  coat,  for  you  are  wet, 
I  know ;  and  you  must  take  off  your  boots  ;  "  and 
he  pulled  them  off:  himself,  and  made  me  take 
off  my  coat.  Then  he  called  Monica,  and  said  to 
her :  "  Get  Mr.  Harvey  some  tea  and  toast." 

"  Never  mind  about  that/'  said  I ;  "  I  ate  dinner 
just  before  I  left  home." 

But  Monica  came  in  again  soon,  and  I  refreshed 
myself  with  a  cup  of  tea.  Then  Mr.  Webster 
said :  — 

"  Now  tell  me  what  it  means." 

So  I  began  deliberately  to  go  into  the  whole 
subject,  stating  the  causes,  and  telling  him  who 
the  men  were  that  did  it,  and  what  their  motives 
were ;  and,  furthermore,  that  there  was  one  shout 
of  indignation  from  all  quarters. 

"  If  you  should  come  to  Boston  to-morrow,"  said 
I,  "  you  would  be  received  with  demonstrations  of 
affection  that  you  never  thought  to  find  even 
there;  but  it  would  be  mingled  with  a  feeling 
of  indignation  that  a  few  men,  clothed  with  brief 
authority,  should  have  the  power  to  commit  an  act 
that  would  wound  you,  and  go  to  the  country  as 
an  expression  of  the  citizens  of  Boston.  But," 
added  I,  "  a  reaction  has  taken  place ;  and  it  is 
frightful.  I  have  thought  that  the  houses  of  these 
aldermen  were  almost  in  danger,  and  they  them 
selves  are  greatly  frightened." 

"  Fletcher  came  down,"  rejoined  Mr.  Webster, 
"  and  merely  told  me  the  bald  fact  that  the  city 
government  had  refused  the  Hall,  and  brought  me 
a  note  from  Mr.  Choate,  which  I  could  not  read. 


186  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

By  the  way,  tell  Mr.  Choate  to  write  better ;  his 
handwriting  is  barbarous.  I  could  not  read  a  sin 
gle  word.  There  is  the  letter;  just  look  at  it! 
Tell  Mr.  Choate  to  go  to  a  writing-school,  and  take 
a  quarter's  lessons.  Fletcher  did  not  give  any 
explanation,  only  that  the  city  government  had 
refused  my  friends  the  Hall.  And  I  have  been 
ruminating,  for  two  hours  past,  since  Fletcher  went 
to  his  own  house  ;  in  the  mean  time,  I  had  come  to 
the  conclusion,  which  you  and  other  friends  suggest, 
to  forego  the  occasion  altogether.  I  had  written  a 
letter,  which  is  out  in  the  office  in  the  garden." 

"  What  I  wish,  Mr.  Webster,"  said  I,  "and  what 
Mr.  Choate  wishes,  is  that  you  should  write  a  let 
ter,  —  one  of  your  best,  —  a  letter  that  shall  have 
an  effect,  and  tell." 

"Well,"  returned  he,  "I  have  written  it." 
He  sent  over  and  got  the  portfolio  in  which  it 
was ;  and  handed  it  to  me.     It  was  in  Fletcher's 
handwriting,  dictated  by  Mr.  Webster,  and  it  was 
something  like  this  :  — 

I  have  had  the  honor  of  receiving  your  communication 
of in  regard  to  the  matter  of  meeting  my  fellow-citi 
zens,  without  distinction  of  party,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  on  a  day 
agreeable  to  myself.  I  had  accepted  that  invitation  at  some 
little  inconvenience,  and  fixed  upon  the  time,  which  was  to 
be  next  Thursday.  Since  that  acceptance,  for  some  cause,  un 
doubtedly  a  proper  one,  best  known  to  yourselves,  the  city 
government  of  Boston,  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  have  re 
fused  the  use  of  the  Hall  to  our  fellow-citizens ;  and  conse 
quently  I  shall  postpone  any  visit  I  had  contemplated. 
I  have  the  honor  to  be, 

Very  truly  yours, 

DANIEL  WEBSTEJU. 


1'CBLIC  LIFE.  187 

"  That  is  not  the  letter  we  want,"  I  said. 

"  Does  not  that  tell  the  story  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  it  doesn't  tell  the  whole  of 
it.  We  want  a  letter  that  shall  express  every  thing. 
In  other  words,  we  want  you  to  remind  the  people 
of  Boston  of  your  services  to  this  State." 

"  No  !  "  he  exclaimed,  u  I  cannot  do  that.  If  I 
have  done  any  services  to  the  State  of  Massachu 
setts,  and  they  have  to  be  reminded  of  it  by  me, 
they  will  never  be  reminded.  No ;  I  never  speak 
of  myself." 

"  There  are  times,"  I  urged,  "  when  that  may  be 
properly  done ;  and  I  think  this  is  eminently  one. 
Fanaticism  and  foolishness  seem  to  run  wild ;  and 
if  this  sort  of  men  have  refused  you  the  Hall,  and 
such  an  expression  goes  out  to  the  country  as  the 
sentiment  of  Boston,  it  will  be  an  outrage  upon 
the  facts  and  history." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  help  that.  If  that 
were  so ;  if  the  people  of  Boston  had  said  this,  and 
if  this  was  their  expression,  —  I  had  said  that  I  would 
go  quietly  through  the  city  of  Boston  on  my  way 
back  to  Washington ;  and  I  had  almost  resolved 
that  I  would  never  come  again  within  the  borders 
of  Massachusetts.  What  you  have  said  relieves 
me  upon  that  point ;  and  I  shall  rest  upon  it.  Let 
it  pass." 

Then  he  cheered  up.  There  was  a  great  deal 
of  conversation,  and  he  became  thoroughly  well 
satisfied  that  the  citizens  of  Boston  were  not  in 
any  true  sense  represented  in  this  action  of  their 
city  government. 


188  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  And  now/'  said  he,  "  let  us  drop  that  matter, 
and  not  say  another  word  about  Faneuil  Hall,  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  Boston,  or  any  other  un 
pleasant  subject ;  let  us  have  some  cheerful  talk, 
and  you  take  your  cigar."  He  never  smoked. 

So  I  lighted  my  cigar.  He  told  Mrs.  Webster  that 
she  had  better  retire  ;  that  he  would  show  me  to 
my  bed-room.  We  chatted  on  all  sorts  of  topics  ; 
he  just  as  cheerful  and  interesting  as  I  ever  saw 
him. 

As,  later  in  the  evening,  he  lighted  me  up  the 
broad  stair-way  to  my  chamber,  he  said  :  "  I  have 
got  a  little  inkling  in  my  mind  of  the  letter  I  shall 
write ;  and  after  I  get  you  into  your  bed-room,  I 
think  I  shall  go  and  write  it." 

He  examined  the  bed  to  see  if  it  was  all  right, 
and  gave  some  directions  in  regard  to  it.  Then, 
as  I  bade  him  good-night,  he  turned  to  me,  with  a 
significant  look,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  think  I  shall  retire  too,  and  to-morrow  morn 
ing,  a  little  before  the  cock  crows,  I  shall  be  up, 
and  I  will  try  and  write  a  letter." 

The  first  thing  I  heard  in  the  morning  was  a  gen 
tle  tap  upon  my  door.  I  said,  "  Come  in." 

Mr.  Webster  entered,  holding  in  his  two  fingers, 
the  ink  hardly  dry,  a  large  foolscap  sheet,  —  the 
letter.  He  came  up  to  the  bed,  and,  with  a  very 
expressive  glance,  remarked  :  "  This  is  the  creat 
ure  ; "  and  laid  it  down  on  the  table.  "  Sleep  a 
little  longer,"  said  he  ;  "  and,  after  you  have  got 
up,  read  it." 

As  soon  as  he  left  the  room  I  read  the  letter, 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  189 

which  I  enjoyed  exceedingly.  It  was  dignified, 
and  very  pointed.  It  was  the  letter  in  which  he 
used  this  expression :  "  I  shall  defer  my  visit  to 
Faneuil  Hall,  the  cradle  of  American  liberty,  until 
its  doors  shall  fly  open  on  golden  hinges  to  lovers 
of  Union  as  well  as  lovers  of  Liberty." 

When  I  went  down  to  breakfast,  he  asked :  - — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  letter  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  right,"  I  replied ;  "  it  is  all  just  as  it 
should  be." 

Before  leaving  for  the  city,  as  I  did  that  morning, 
he  charged  me  to  show  the  letter,  before  I  gave  it 
to  the  committee,  to  Mr.  Choate.  Said  he  :  "  Show 
it  to  Mr.  Choate,  and  ask  him  if  that  is  what  he 
wants.  Tell  him  you  have  my  full  authority  to 
make  any  additions,  and  to  take  out  any  thing 
he  chooses.  Tell  him  I  will  stand  by  it ;  let  him 
amend  it  in  any  way." 

On  reaching  the  city,  I  went  directly  to  Mr. 
Choate,  gave  him  an  account  of  my  interview,  and 
showed  him  the  letter,  telling  him  what  Mr.  Web 
ster  had  requested  me  to  do.  Mr.  Choate,  having 
read  the  letter,  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"  /  amend  a  letter  of  Mr.  Webster  !  "  said  he  ; 
"  I  should  as  soon  think  of  amending  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles  !  The  letter  is  perfect.  Nobody  else 
could  write  such  a  letter." 

The  sequel  to  this  incident  was  a  complete  tri 
umph  for  Mr.  Webster.  He  came  up  to  the  city, 
after  the  storm  subsided,  and  was  there  three  or 
four  days  before  he  returned  to  Washington.  He 
stayed  on  that  occasion  at  the  Revere  House.  In 


190  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

the  mean  time,  both  branches  of  the  city  govern 
ment  had  met  in  their  respective  chambers,  and 
passed  unanimously  a  series  of  resolutions  invit 
ing  Mr.  Webster  to  Faneuil  Hall,  on  any  day  that 
would  suit  his  convenience,  he  to  be  received  as 
the  guest  of  the  city.  They  then  appointed  a  very 
large  committee  to  wait  upon  Mr.  Webster  and 
tender  to  him  these  resolutions.  It  was  eating 
humble-pie,  a  complete  backing  down. 

Mr.  Webster  was  dining  with  his  brother-in- 
law,  Mr.  Paige,  in  Summer  Street,  on  the  evening 
of  the  day  when  this  committee  was  appointed. 
Several  gentlemen  were  present,  of  whom  Mr. 
Choate  was  one.  The  names  of  the  others  I  do 
not  remember.  Near  the  close  of  the  dinner, 
and  after  the  ladies  had  left  the  table,  the  ser 
vant  entered  the  dining  hall  and  spoke  to  Mr. 
Paige,  who  went  out.  In  a  few  moments  he  re 
turned,  and  said  that  a  committee  of  the  city  gov 
ernment,  the  bearers  of  resolutions,  were  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  desired  to  see  Mr.  Webster. 
Mr.  Webster  was  about  to  go  out.  I  sat  beside 
him,  and  being  indignant  at  the  action  of  the  city 
government,  and  wishing  to  annoy  them  all  I  could, 
I  suggested  to  Mr.  Webster  that,  if  I  were  in  his 
place,  I  would  not  go  down. 

"  Tell  them,"  said  I,  "  that  you  are  out  to  dine." 

Whereupon  he  turned  to  Mr.  Paige,  and  said  : 
"  Tell  them  I  am  stopping  at  the  Revere  House, 
and  they  can  call  there  at  twelve  o'clock  to-morrow, 
if  they  desire  to  communicate  with  me." 

The  next  day  at  twelve  o'clock  he  had  prepared 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  191 

himself.  He  was  dressed  in  full  costume,  —  blue 
coat  with  brass  buttons,  bun0  vest,  white  cravat, 
silk  stockings,  and  low  shoes,  and  was  only  await 
ing  the  arrival  of  this  committee.  Promptly  at 
twelve  o'clock  the  servant  came  up,  and  announced 
that  the  committee  were  in  the  ladies'  drawing- 
room.  He  went  downstairs,  asking  me  to  go  with 
him ;  which  I  did.  He  stopped  as  soon  as  he  had 
crossed  the  threshold  of  the  room.  The  committee 
stood  near  the  door;  I  should  think  there  were 
fifteen  of  them.  The  chairman  of  the  committee 
was  one  of  the  aldermen  who  had  refused  him  the 
Hall.  He  made  a  movement  to  come  forward ;  but 
Mr.  Webster's  manner  was  very  forbidding,  and  the 
alderman  saw  that  he  was  on  dangerous  ground. 
He  merelj-  made  a  formal  bow,  with  his  hands  be 
hind  him,  and  said  :  — 

"We  are  a  committee  of  the  two  branches  of 
the  city  government,  and  have  come  for  the  pur 
pose  of  presenting  to  you  some  resolutions  passed 
unanimously  on  a  joint  ballot,  requesting  you  to 
meet  your  fellow-citizens  in  Faneuil  Hall,  at  such  a 
day  and  hour  as  may  suit  your  convenience.  And 
I  assure  you  that  it  is  the  unanimous  wish  of  both 
branches  of  the  city  government  that  you  should 
accept  this  invitation ;  that  what  is  past  should  be 
forgotten  as  a  mistake ;  and  we  hope  that  nothing 
will  prevent  your  acceptance.  It  is  the  wish  of 
every  member  of  the  Board  of  Aldermen  that  you 
should  accept  this  invitation;  and  let  us  make 
amends  so  far  as  we  can.  I  have  the  honor  to  read 
the  resolutions." 


192  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

The  resolutions  were  then  read.  Mr.  Webster 
stood  perfectly  still  while  they  were  being  read. 
When  the  chairman  had  concluded,  he  said  :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  resolutions." 

The  chairman  advanced  and  offered  the  resolu 
tions  to  Mr.  Webster ;  he  took  them,  and  added, 
curtly,  — 

"  I  will  answer  the  committee  in  writing  ;  good 
morning,  gentlemen." 

He  then  left  the  room.  When  we  got  upstairs, 
I  remarked  :  — 

"  That  was  a  pretty  cool  proceeding." 

"But,"  said  he,  "I  felt  just  so." 

"  You  are  right,"  I  replied. 

"  To  think,"  said  he,  "  that  it  is  flying  all  over 
the  country,  in  the  press,  and  everywhere,  that 
Faneuil  Hall  has  been  refused  to  my  friends  by  the 
city  government  of  Boston,  —  a  thing  which  they 
would  grant  to  a  company  of  blacklegs,  —  and 
that,  too,  after  a  hundred  citizens  had  petitioned 
for  it !  I  cannot  express  the  indignation  which  I 
feel." 

"  You  are  right,"  I  repeated. 

Mr.  Webster  then  wrote  the  following  reply,  in 
substance :  — 

REVERE  HOUSE,  12£  o'clock. 
Mr.  . 

Chairman  of  Committee :  —  I  have  had  the  honor  to 
receive  the  resolutions  passed  by  the  City  Government, 
which  you  have  presented  to  me  this  day  ;  and  beg  to  say, 
in  answer  thereto,  that  it  will  not  be  convenient  for  me  to 
accept  the  invitation  contained  in  them. 

Respectfully  yours, 

DANIEL  WEBSTEB. 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  193 

"  If  I  could  word  it  in  any  colder  or  briefer  way 
than  that,"  he  said,  "I  would." 

The  reply  was  sent  down  to  the  City  Hall.  That 
ended  the  affair.  He  told  me  that  he  never  would 
enter  Faneuil  Hall  while  that  Mayor  and  Board  of 
Aldermen  were  in  office.  It  may  be  recorded  here 
that  neither  that  Mayor  nor  that  Board  of  Alder 
men  were  re-elected.  How  much  their  action  in 
regard  to  this  proposed  reception  of  Mr.  Webster 
had  to  do  with  it,  I  do  not  know ;  but  that  is  the 
historical  fact. 

Not  long  after  the  7th  of  March  speech,  Mr. 
William  Appleton  was  nominated  for  Congress  in 
Boston.  There  was  then  a  division  among  the 
Whigs  about  sustaining  Mr.  Webster ;  and  he  was 
naturally  anxious  that  a  man  should  be  sent  to 
Congress  who  was  not  only  a  personal  but  a  politi 
cal  sympathizer  with  him.  There  was  a  strong 
minority,  to  say  the  least,  who  were  disposed  to 
send  a  person  who  did  not  agree  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  7th  of  March  speech,  and  who  was  not  a 
particular  friend  of  Mr.  Webster.  Mr.  Stevenson 
had  been  nominated,  and  had  declined.  The  nom 
inating  convention  was  so  equally  divided,  that  it 
was  feared  that  what  was  called  the  opposition 
would  carry  their  candidate,  unless  some  very  un 
objectionable  man  could  be  found  in  the  mean 
time.  After  Mr.  Stevenson's  declination,  Mr.  Web 
ster's  friends  cast  about  to  see  what  other  person 
they  could  find.  Mr.  William  Appleton,  who  never 
had  been  a  public  man,  and  never  had  held  any 
office,  was  suggested ;  and  very  much  to  the  sur- 

13 


194  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

prise  of  many  people,  when  asked  if  he  would 
accept,  he  did  not  reply  positively  in  the  negative. 
His  reply  left  the  inference  that  he  did  not  seek 
the  office,  but  would  take  it  if  nominated.  The 
convention  met,  and  nominated  Mr.  Appleton  by 
only  one  or  two  majority.  The  committee  waited 
on  him,  and  he  accepted  the  nomination  that  night, 
—  the  nomination  being  equivalent  to  an  election, 
as  the  Whigs  were  three  to  one  in  the  district. 

Mr.  Webster  was  at  that  time  in  Franklin,  re 
cruiting  his  health.  I  went  up  there  the  day  after 
the  nomination,  and  when  I  informed  him  that  Mr. 
Appleton  had  been  nominated  and  had  accepted, 
he  jumped  up  and  began  to  dance  about  the  floor 
in  the  most  hilarious  manner.  He  said  it  was  the 
best  news  he  had  heard  for  twenty  years. 

"  How  delighted  I  am  !  "  he  exclaimed.  u  Why 
did  not  somebody  think  of  that  before  ?  He  is  the 
very  best  man  who  could  be  nominated.  Boston 
should  send  commercial  men  to  Congress  ;  they 
are  infinitely  more  useful  than  lawyers ;  and  when 
Boston  has  been  represented  by  commercial  men 
she  has  always  been  better  represented  than  at 
any  other  time.  Mr.  Appleton  will  have  more 
influence  than  a  dozen  lawyers.  He  is  a  high- 
toned  gentleman ;  and  I  am  exceedingly  gratified 
by  his  nomination." 

He  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Appleton,  and 
Mr.  Appleton  was  always  a  very  warm  friend  of  his. 

At  the  Whig  Convention,  which  met  in  Balti 
more  on  the  17th  of  June,  1852,  Mr.  Webster 
was  an  unsuccessful  candidate  for  the  nomination 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  195 

to  the  Presidency.  I  was  at  that  convention,  and 
after  its  conclusion  went  to  Washington,  to  Mr. 
Webster's  house.  He  was  alone,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  his  family  and  perhaps  one  other  guest. 
Of  course  the  result  of  that  convention  and  its  pro 
ceedings  were  known  to  him.  He  met  me  at  the 
door,  knowing  I  was  coming,  with  an  expression 
of  grief ;  but  said  not  a  word  as  to  the  result,  only 
inquiring  for  Mr.  Choate,  who  had  taken  a  very 
prominent  part  in  the  convention  in  Mr.  Webster's 
favor.  I  told  him  that  Mr.  Choate  would  be  down 
in  a  later  train  from  Baltimore ;  and  some  two 
hours  later  Mr.  Choate  arrived.  He  came-  imme 
diately  to  Mr.  Webster's  house,  and  remained  to 
tea.  Not  a  word  was  uttered  in  regard  to  the 
doings  of  the  convention  by  Mr.  Webster;  he 
seemed  really  too  full  for  utterance.  He  did  not 
make  any  comment  as  to  the  successful  candidate, 
nor  as  to  the  result.  Mr.  Choate,  after  tea,  had  an 
interview  of  an  hour  or  so  with  him,  after  which 
he  went  to  his  hotel,  and  returned  to  Boston  the 
next  day.  I  remained  a  day  or  two  in  Washington. 
Mr.  Choate,  on  meeting  me  after  my  return  to 
Boston,  spoke  of  the  interview  as  one  of  the 
most  affecting  he  had  ever  had.  He  said  that 
the  appearance  of  the  family,  and  every  thing 
about  the  house,  seemed  to  remind  him  of  scenes 
that  he  had  witnessed  in  families  which  had  lost  a 
beloved  member.  "  And  that  sad  meal,"  added  he, 
"  which  we  partook  of  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Webster 
that  night,  reminded  me  strongly  of  the  first  meal 
after  the  return  from  the  grave,  when  the  full 


196  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

force  of  the  bereavement  seems  to  be  realized. 
It  was  too  deep  an  emotion  for  utterance." 

Not  long  after  this,  Mr.  Webster  left  Washington, 
and  returned  to  his  home  at  Marshfield.  He  was 
ill,  and  I  was  much  with  him  at  that  gloomy  time. 

One  day  I  was  dining  at  Marshfield,  Mr.  Webster 
being  now  confined  to  his  room.  I  was  sitting  at 
the  table,  when  his  body  servant  came  and  whis 
pered  to  me  that  Mr.  Webster  wished  me  to  come 
to  him  when  I  had  finished  my  dinner.  I  immedi 
ately  put  back  my  chair  and  obeyed  the  summons. 

Mr.  Webster  was  lying  at  full  length  on  the  sofa, 
with  a  pillow  under  him.  As  soon  as  he  heard  me, 
he  remarked :  — 

"  I  said,  when  you  had  finished  your  dinner ; 
you  have  not  finished  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  see 
you." 

I  approached  him  and  replied  :  — 

"  I  have  eaten  all  the  dinner  that  I  want ;  I  very 
much  prefer  to  come  here  and  listen  to  any  thing 
you  may  say." 

He  then  ordered  William  to  bring  in  a  little 
camp  chair,  and  I  sat  down  by  his  side. 

He  put  his  hand  in  mine  and  said  :  — 

"  Now,  I  may  never  have  another  opportunity 
to  say  a  few  things  that  I  propose  to  say  to  you 
to-night.  This  is  perhaps  my  only,  and  certainly 
the  best,  opportunity  I  shall  have.  William,  shut 
the  door,  and  don't  let  anybody  in  here  until  I  give 
you  permission." 

He  then  began  by  saying  that  Fletcher  had  told 
him  —  for  he  read  no  newspapers  himself,  and 


PUBLIC   LIFE.  197 

allowed  none  to  be  read  in  his  presence  —  that  Mr. 
Choate  was  going  to  make  a  speech  for  General 
Scott  in  Faneuil  Hall,  and  that  the  "  Atlas  "  had 
announced  the  fact.  I  said  :  — 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Mr.  Webster,  that  you  mention 
that  to  me ;  because  I  can  contradict  it  emphati 
cally.  Mr.  Choate  says  that,  having  participated 
in  the  convention  which  nominated  General  Scott, 
and  having  failed  in  his  purpose  to  nominate  you, 
he  certainly  did  not  think  himself  bound  in  honor 
to  take  any  part  in  the  election  of  General  Scott ; 
and  sooner  would  he  lose  his  right  hand  than  to 
say  a  word  or  do  a  thing  in  favor  of  General  Scott ; 
that  his  obligations  to  the  Whig  Convention  do  not 
require  this  at  his  hands ;  and  any  statement  that 
the  '  Atlas '  may  make  to  the  contrary  is  gratuitous 
and  without  foundation." 

This  seemed  to  please  him  very  much ;  and  he 
remarked :  — 

"  I  did  not  suppose  that  Mr.  Choate  would.  I 
think  I  know  him  too  well ;  I  think  I  know  that 
his  friendship  and  love  for  me  are  too  great  to 
allow  him  to  do  a  thing  that  would  be  so  wound 
ing  to  my  feelings.  I  may  never  see  him  again, 
but  do  you  tell  him  that  I  thank  him  for  this 
communication." 

"  Mr.  Webster,"  said  I,  "  if  you  recover  from  this 
sickness,  you  should  write  a  sort  of  farewell  address 
to  your  countrymen." 

"  I  write  a  farewell  address  ?  Oh,  no  !  that 
would  be  both  useless  and  presumptuous." 

"  There  is  no  person,"  I  replied,  "  who  has  a 


198  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

better  right  to  do  so,  or  whose  opinions  would  have 
more  weight  with  the  American  people." 

"  When  I  look  back/'  he  went  on,  "  over  the 
past  quarter  of  a  century,  on  the  course  of  the 
Whig  party,  and  the  events  connected  with  it,  and 
see  where  it  now  is,  I  say,  What  a  fall !  I  want 
you  to  tell  Mr.  Choate  —  and  this  is  the  last  time 
that  I  shall  speak  of  political  subjects  to  any  one, 
for  I  do  not  allow  them  to  be  broached  in  my  pres 
ence  —  that  the  Whig  party,  after  the  4th  day  of 
November,  will  cease  to  exist.  It  has  been  for 
thirty  years  a  noble  party,  —  a  party  of  which  I 
have  been  one  of  the  leaders ;  a  party  to  which  I 
have  been  devoted,  because  it  was  a  party  of  prin 
ciple,  a  party  in  favor  of  administering  the  general 
government  according  to  the  charter,  and  never, 
until  recently,  disposed  to  adopt  a  policy  of  expedi 
ency.  But  it  began  its  downward  course  when  it 
nominated  General  Harrison.  Before  that  it  had 
always  taken,  instead  of  an  available  man,  an  able 
man ;  a  man  fit  to  be  its  standard-bearer,  and  fit  to 
be  President.  But  somehow  or  other  new  leaders 
got  in,  who  wanted  office ;  and  they  said :  '  In 
order  to  succeed,  we  must  imitate  the  action  of  our 
opponents ;  we  must  take  available  men ;  we  must 
have  no  reference  to  high  qualifications.'  With 
that  spirit  they  nominated  General  Harrison,  a  re 
spectable  man,  but  not  a  fit  man  to  occupy  that 
high  position.  They  succeeded  in  electing  General 
Harrison,  but  his  early  death  rendered  their  victory 
abortive.  Then  they  nominated  Clay  at  the  next 
election;  and  that  was  a  nomination  fit  to  be  made. 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  199 

That  was  proper,  because  lie  was  fit  to  be  President. 
They  were  beaten.  But  still  they  continued  to 
hurrah  for  availability.  The  battle  of  Buena  Vista 
was  fought,  and  then  there  was  a  hero  in  General 
Taylor.  They  did  not  know  whether  General  Tay 
lor  was  a  Whig  or  a  Democrat,  or  what  he  was  ;  but 
he  was  a  hero,  and  nominate  him  they  would,  and 
nominate  him  they  did.  But  Providence  removed 
him.  They  happened  to  nominate  an  able  man  for 
Vice-president  in  Mr.  Fillmore,  who  succeeded  to 
the  government  after  a  year ;  and  I  think  that  Mr. 
Fillmore  has  given  us  as  fair  and  impartial  and  able 
an  administration  as  the  government  has  had  for 
many  years.  To  say  nothing  of  the  part  I  have 
taken  in  it,  I  think  it  is  an  administration  that  has 
done  credit  to  the  Whig  party.  And  now  comes 
another  dose  of  availability.  General  Scott  has 
been  nominated.  Let  me  say  to  you  here  to-night, 
—  I  make  this  prophecy,  and  you  may  write  it 
down  and  bear  it  in  mind,  —  that  General  Scott  will 
not  receive  the  electoral  vote  of  six  States  of  the 
Union.  I  know  that  they  say  I  am  no  politician, 
and  know  nothing  about  the  feeling  of  the  masses  of 
men.  '  Mr.  Webster  is,'  they  say,  '  a  great  man,  an 
able  man,  but  he  has  no  sympathies  with  the  peo 
ple  ;  the  people  know  nothing  about  him,  and  their 
wants  and  tastes  he  knows  nothing  about.'  Now 
I  say,  with  all  deference  to  these  young  men  of 
the  party,  that  I  do  know  a  great  deal  more  about 
the  temper  of  the  American  people  than  they  give 
me  credit  for,  and  a  great  deal  more  than  they 
know.  This  one  thing  I  know ;  that  the  American 


200  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

people  will  not  elect  General  Scott  President,  with 
the  surroundings  that  they  well  know  he  has. 
General  Scott  himself  is  well  enough.  He  is  a 
man  of  good  principles,  a  conservative  man.  But 
he  would  be  a  mere  tool  in  the  hands  of  the 
New  York  Whig  regency,  headed  by  William  H. 
Seward  ;  and,  if  he  should  be  elected,  he  will  not 
be  President  of  the  United  States,  but  William  H. 
Seward  will.  One  of  the  convictions  of  my  mind, 
and  it  is  very  strong,  is  that  the  people  of  the  United 
States  will  never  intrust  their  destinies  and  the  ad 
ministration  of  their  government  to  the  hands  of 
William  H.  Seward  and  his  associates.  Mr.  Seward 
is  in  some  respects  an  able  man,  but  subtle  and  un 
scrupulous,  and  will  make  every  thing  bend  to  the 
one  idea  of  making  himself  President  of  the  United 
States.  He  has  been  catering,  first  for  the  vote  of 
the  Catholics,  and  then  for  that  of  the  Abolitionists  : 
it  is  no  matter  whose  votes  they  are,  if  they  only 
lift  him  to  the  great  office.  General  Scott  would  be 
a  puppet  in  his  hands  ;  and  I  again  predict  that  he 
will  not  receive  the  electoral  vote  of  six  States  in 
the  Union  on  the  4th  of  November.  I  predict  also 
that,  after  that  election,  the  Whig  party  will  cease 
to  exist.  So  much  for  that.  There  are  some  per 
sons  friendly  to  me  —  and  their  kindness  I  appre 
ciate  and  respect  —  who  are  even  now  making  an 
electoral  ticket  with  my  name  upon  it.  I  have 
not  said  any  thing  about  it ;  but  I  am  free  to  men 
tion  it  now,  for  I  think  it  a  very  foolish  movement. 
Besides,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  take  no  part 
whatever  in  this  election." 


PUBLIC  LIFE.  201 

"  That  kind  of  ticket  would  please  your  enemies 
more  than  your  friends,"  said  I,  "because  it  can 
not  receive  more  than  a  mere  handful  of  votes ; 
and  then  your  enemies  will  say,  '  There  is  the 
strength  of  your  popular  candidate.' ' 

"  Precisely  so/'  replied  he. 

"  And  therefore  my  course,"  said  I,  "  is  not  to 
vote." 

"  Well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Webster,  "  that  won't  do. 
Now,  let  me  tell  you,  General  Pierce  as  the  can 
didate  of  the  Democratic  party  will  be  elected 
overwhelmingly.  General  Pierce  is  not  a  great 
man  in  the  proper  acceptation  of  the  term ;  but 
he  is  not  by  any  means  a  small  man.  He  is 
a  well-informed,  intelligent,  ripe,  talented  man. 
General  Pierce  entered  the  Senate  just  over  the 
age  when  he  was  eligible.  I  was  with  him  six  or 
eight  years  in  that  body;  politically  opposed  all 
the  while.  Although  a  very  young  man,  and  al 
though  his  associates  of  his  own  party  were  some 
of  them  very  eminent  and  tried  statesmen,  —  such 
as  Benton  and  Calhoun  and  all  that  class  of  men,  — 
his  career  was  a  very  respectable  one.  He  always 
acquitted  himself  with  credit.  So  far  as  I  was  per 
sonally  concerned,  our  relations  were  always  of  the 
most  friendly  and  cordial  character,  although  wre 
were  in  the  Senate  together  when  party  spirit  ran 
unusually  high,  and  when  it  had  an  effect  to  alien 
ate  persons  holding  different  political  views,  and 
was  carried  into  social  life. '  General  Pierce  was 
always  kind  and  courteous  to  me.  I  well  recollect 
him  when  he  first  entered  the  Senate,  and  his  ere- 


202  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

dentials  were  presented,  —  a  handsome,  youthful 
person.  I  very  soon  made  his  acquaintance  ;  and 
I  said  to  him :  '  Mr.  Pierce,  you  come  from  my 
native  State  ;  we  are  natives  of  New  Hampshire, 
and  we  both  love  the  mother  that  bore  us.  Your 
father  I  was  early  taught  to  respect ;  he  fought 
side  by  side  with  mine  in  the  Eevolution  ;  they 
were  early  friends  and  patriots.  Now,  these  polit 
ical  differences  need  not  interfere  with  or  disturb 
our  social  intercourse.  I  always  love  a  New  Hamp 
shire  man ;  I  never  shall  cease  to.  Let  me  say 
now,  that  you  always  will  be  welcome  to  my 
house ;  and  I  here  promise  you  that  the  subject  of 
politics  shall  never  be  broached  by  me  there.  Mrs. 
Webster  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  and  will  always 
have  an  empty  chair  for  you  at  our  tea-table : 
come  in  as  a  younger  brother.'  He  availed  him 
self  of  that  proffered  civility ;  and,  during  his 
whole  career  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
although  differing  politically  and  voting  on  oppo 
site  sides  on  almost  every  question,  there  never 
was  a  word  uttered  by  him,  to  my  knowledge,  in 
any  way  disrespectful  or  unkind  to  me.  Since  the 
events  of  two  years  ago,  —  the  passage  of  the 
Compromise  bills,  —  all  that  class  of  men  have 
been  not  only  courteous,  but  they  have  been 
friendly ;  and  you  know  how  they  feel,  because 
you  dined  at  New  Hampshire  with  forty  of  them, 
at  my  invitation,  General  Pierce  among  them. 
A  few  weeks  ago,  since  his  nomination  to  this 
office,  while  I  was  in  New  Hampshire  with  Mrs. 
Webster,  spending  a  few  days  at  '  The  Elms  '  farm, 


;:T? 

PUBLIC  LIFE. 

he  drove  over  in  a  chaise,  on  a  pretty  warm  day, 
twelve  miles  from  his  residence  in  Concord,  with  his 
wife,  who  is  not  a  strong  person,  to  call  on  me  and 
Mrs.  Webster.  I  appreciated  that  kindness  and  civil 
ity,  and  was  intending  to  return  it ;  and  had  ordered 
a  carriage,  —  Mrs.  Webster's  carriage  and  horses 
being  up  in  New  Hampshire,  —  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  formal  call  upon  the  next  President  of 
the  United  States  and  his  lady.  This  sickness  in 
tervenes  and  prevents  my  design,  and  he  must  take 
the  will  for  the  deed.  If  I  never  see  him  again,  — 
and  I  probably  never  shall,  —  I  wish  you  to  give 
him  my  warm  regards  and  sympathies.  And  now, 
having  said  that,  and  knowing  that  you  will  not 
vote  for  General  Scott,  —  as  you  say  you  shall  not 
(and  I  should  know  you  would  not  if  you  had  not 
said  so),  —  and  as  it  is  not  quite  manly  not  to  vote 
at  all,  let  me  advise  you  to  vote  for  General  Pierce. 
If  you  vote  for  a  man,  you  have  a  right  to  advise 
him  :  if  you  don't,  you  haven't." 

And  he  added  :  — 

"  If  I  had  a  vote  to  give,  I  should  cast  it  for 
General  Pierce." 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  I  replied ;  "  I  shall  cast 
my  vote  for  him."  And  I  did. 

Mr.  Webster's  prophecy  as  to  the  result  of  the 
election  of  1852  calls  to  mind  another  prophecy 
of  his,  made  long  before,  which  was  yet  more 
worthy  of  note.  Talking,  in  1840,  with  Mr. 
Thomas  Tileston,  soon  after  his  return  from  Eu 
rope,  about  the  union  of  California  with  the 
United  States,  he  showed  a  thorough  appreciation 


204  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

of  the  importance  of  California  to  this  country. 
He  said  :  — 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  some  maps  of  Cali 
fornia,  and  informing  myself  more  particularly 
about  that  distant  country ;  and,  in  tracing  up  the 
western  coast  of  America,  my  eye  instinctively 
rested  on  a  spot  that,  sooner  or  later,  must  become 
part  and  parcel  of  the  United  States.  Do  you 
know  that  that  beautiful  bay  of  San  Francisco  is 
capable  of  accommodating  the  whole  naval  power 
of  the  world  ?  " 

Nobody  then  thought  of  the  value  of  California. 
Mr.  Webster,  however,  with  the  eye  of  a  statesman, 
saw  not  only  its  commercial  value,  but  the  necessity 
of  its  union  with  this  country.  He  added  :  — 

"  I  know  not  how  this  will  come  about ;  I  cannot 
see  so  far  as  that.  I  hope  we  shall  acquire  it  by 
purchase  ;  but  one  of  these  days  we  shall  have  it." 

Within  ten  years  the  prophecy  was  fulfilled. 

Mr.  Webster  did  not  have  a  very  high  opinion 
of  the  science  of  political  economy.  He  once  wrote 
to  a  friend  :  — 

"  For  my  part,  though  I  like  the  investigation 
of  particular  questions,  I  give  up  what  is  called  the 
science  of  political  economy.  There  is  no  such 
science.  There  are  no  rules  on  these  subjects  so 
fixed  and  invariable  that  their  aggregate  constitutes 
a  science.  I  believe  I  have  recently  run  over  twenty 
volumes,  from  Adam  Smith  to  Professor  Dew ;  and 
from  the  whole,  if  I  were  to  pick  out  with  one  hand 
all  mere  truisms,  and  with  the  other  all  the  doubt 
ful  propositions,  little  would  be  left." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS   CONTEMPORARIES. 

MR.  WEBSTER  was  at  once  cautious  in  speaking 
of  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  in  public 
life,  and  liberal  in  his  estimate  of  the  talents  of  his 
political  and  oratorical  rivals  Indeed,  he  was  usu 
ally  reticent  on  political  subjects,  seldom  referring 
to  them  in  hours  of  leisure,  and  only  now  and  then 
opening  his  mind  upon  them  and  the  men  connected 
with  them. 

In  a  letter  written  in  1827  to  a  Philadelphia 
friend,  he  speaks  thus  :  — 

"  It  would  give  me  serious  pain  if  any  reference 
were  made  to  any  supposed  opinion  of  mine  on  such 
a  subject  as  is  referred  to  in  your  letter.  I  en 
deavor  in  all  instances,  and  I  thought  I  had  care 
fully  done  so  in  this,  to  observe  an  entire  absti 
nence  from  putting  forth  my  own  sentiments, 
when  it  is  proper  that  the  feelings  and  wishes  of 
others  should  prevail.'' 

In  speaking  of  his  contemporaries,  Mr.  Webster 
seemed  to  avoid  with  conscientious  care  all  bitter 
ness  of  expression  and  all  undue  severity  of  judg 
ment  as  affected  by  his  own  personal  feelings  or 
prejudices.  In  his  reply  to  Hayne,  he  declared  : 


206  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  I  thank  God  that,  if  I  am  gifted  with  little  of 
the  spirit  which  is  able  to  raise  mortals  to  the  skies, 
I  have  yet  none,  as  I  trust,  of  that  other  spirit 
which  would  drag  angels  down.  When,  sir,  I  shall 
be  found,  in  my  place  here  in  the  Senate  or  else 
where,  to  sneer  at  public  merit  because  it  happens 
to  spring  up  beyond  the  little  limits  of  my  own 
State  or  neighborhood  ;  when  I  refuse,  for  any 
such  cause,  or  for  any  cause,  the  homage  due  to 
American  talent,  to  elevated  patriotism,  to  sincere 
devotion  to  liberty  and  the  country ;  or,  if  I  see 
an  uncommon  endowment  of  Heaven,  if  I  see  ex 
traordinary  capacity  and  virtue  in  any  son  of  the 
South,  and  if,  moved  by  local  prejudice  or  gan 
grened  by  State  jealousy,  I  get  up  here  to  abate 
the  tithe  of  a  hair  from  his  just  character  and  just 
fame,  —  may  my  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth!" 

The  acts  of  Mr.  Webster's  life  and  his  conversa 
tions  practically  exemplified  this  generous  senti 
ment.  He  was  the  most  truly  and  distinctively 
American  statesman  since  Washington.  I  once 
heard  him  say  that  the  great  defect  of  our  public 
men  lay  in  their  too  narrow  views.  "  Their  policy," 
said  he,  "  is  bounded  by  State  lines.  Their  patri 
otism  is  hemmed  in  by  the  horizon  that  encircles 
their  own  neighborhood.  I  have  often  been  aston 
ished  at  the  legal  acumen  and  extensive  research 
of  some  of  the  lawyers  in  our  county  courts,  and 
have  asked  myself  why  they  are  not  better  known. 
They  fail  to  rise  in  the  public  esteem  because  their 
ambition  is  satisfied  with  a  local  popularity  ;  and 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES.       207 

they  regulate  their  conduct  and  opinions  by  the 
public  sentiment  of  their  own  village.  They  look 
not  beyond  the  shops,  churches,  and  hotels  that 
are  visible  from  their  own  doors." 

Mr.  Webster  always  chose  to  judge  of  men  by 
their  excellences  rather  than  their  defects.  His 
letters  amply  show  this.  Both  friend  and  foe  re 
ceived  full  justice  at  his  hands.  He  was  the  last 
man  to  disown  an  obligation  for  information  that 
he  received.  Whenever  he  received  advice,  legal 
or  political,  that  afforded  him  aid,  he  was  not  slow 
to  acknowledge  it,  either  in  public  or  in  private. 
Many  readers  will  remember  the  delicate  and  re 
sponsible  position  he  held  in  President  Tyler's 
Cabinet.  Dissatisfied  politicians  were  reluctant  to 
award  to  Mr.  Tyler  even  the  negative  credit  of 
non-intervention  in  the  settlement  of  the  difficul 
ties  relating  to  the  north-eastern  boundary;  but 
Mr.  Webster  always  acknowledged  his  cordial  co 
operation  in  that  critical  and  difficult  negotiation, 
and  till  the  close  of  his  life  maintained  a  sincere 
respect  for  the  ex-President. 

Nothing  could  be  more  interesting  and  valuable 
than  Mr.  Webster's  opinions  of  his  eminent  con 
temporaries.  Such  opinions  as  follow  I  heard,  for 
the  most  part,  from  time  to  time,  from  his  own  lips. 
His  keen  powers  of  observation  of  character  were 
brought  into  action  early  in  his  Congressional 
career.  He  wrote  thus  of  some  of  his  colleagues 
in  1824:- 

"  I  find  Mr.  Plumer,  who  is  on  the  committee 
with  me,  a  very  pleasant  and  respectable  man.  I 


208  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

see  more  of  him  than  of  all  the  rest  of  our  dele 
gation." 

The  friendship  thus  formed  with  Mr.  Plumer 
lasted  till  the  latter's  death.  They  corresponded 
often  ;  and  in  his  letters  Mrr  Webster  frequently 
alluded  kindly  to  Governor  Plumer,  his  colleague's 
father,  who  had  long  been  a  warm  and  decided 
political  opponent. 

Of  another  member  of  Congress  from  New 
Hampshire  he  spoke,  in  the  same  letter,  in  a 
different  strain,  as  follows  :  — 

"  You  doubtless  saw  how  Messrs.  Clay  and  Bart- 
lett  settled  their  matter  ;  or  rather  how  somebody 
else  settled  it  for  them.  I  presume  you  are  right 
as  to  the  motive  which  led  Bartlett  to  make  a 
conned  speech  against  my  motion.  That  wras  all 
fair  enough ;  at  least,  I  could  not  complain.  But 
when  he  brought  into  debate  his  broad  Dover 
court  wit,  I  thought  it  better  to  settle  the  account 
on  the  spot." 

In  a  letter  written  to  Judge  Smith,  soon  after 
his  first  appearance  in  Congress,  Mr.  Webster 
thus  gave  his  impressions  of  the  leading  law 
yers  practising  at  that  time  before  the  supreme 
court :  — 

"  I  have  been  a  good  deal  in  court ;  generally 
finding  there  more  entertainment  than  elsewhere. 
Pinkney,  Harper,  Dexter,  and  Stockton  have  ar 
gued  most  of  the  cases.  Dexter  made  an  eloquent 
argument  on  the  question  of  domicile  ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  I  thought  his  efforts  did  not  more  than  equal 
expectation.  Pinkney,  with  all  the  folly  and  flip- 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS    CONTEMPORARIES.       209 

pancy  of  his  manner,  seems  to  me  to  be  a  very 
able  lawyer.  He  and  Dexter  did  not  take  to  each 
other  much.  There  is  no  great  love  lost  between 
them.  They  both  argued  one  side  of  a  great  cause. 
Dexter  opened,  and  laid  down  his  principles  and 
doctrines.  Pinkney  followed,  and  made  a  direct 
attempt  to  overthrow  Dexter's  whole  argument ! 
For  half  an  hour  he  combated  it  with  all  zeal ; 
and  Harper,  in  reply  to  both,  excused  himself  from 
answering  Dexter,  because,  he  said,  Dexter's  col 
league  had  effectually  done  that  for  him  !  Stock 
ton  is  an  able  man.  He  has  no  rubbish  about  him. 
His  manner  is  plain,  his  logic  sound,  and  his 
powers  of  enforcing  and  illustrating  his  positions 
great.  These  lawyers  have  made  a  great  deal  of 
money  at  this  time  out  of  the  prize  causes.  Very 
great  divisions  have  prevailed  on  the  bench,  as  you 
have  probably  heard,  —  Marshall,  Livingston,  and 
Johnson  one  way;  Washington,  Todd,  Duval,  and 
Story,  the  other." 

Mr.  Webster,  himself  in  early  life  a  Federalist, 
always  had  a  profound  veneration  for  that  Revolu 
tionary  statesman  and  sturdy  old  Federalist  leader, 
John  Adams.  This  regard,  conceived  in  his  early 
youth,  lasted  to  the  venerable  ex-President's  death. 

On  one  occasion,  while  the  Constitutional  Con 
vention  was  in  session  in  Boston,  Mr.  Adams  and  a 
number  of  other  gentlemen  dined  with  Mr.  Web 
ster.  Their  time  was  short,  the  Convention  having 
adjourned  from  two  to  three  o'clock,  leaving  thus 
but  an  hour  for  dinner. 

In  those  days  smoking  was  an  almost  universal 

14 


210  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

habit ;  and  though  Mr.  Webster  himself  never 
smoked,  he  kept  cigars  for  his  guests.  His  resi 
dence  was  near  the  State  House,  where  the  Con 
vention  held  its  sessions.  The  dinner  was  pro 
longed  as  much  as  possible,  considering  the  time, 
and,  on  rising  to  depart,  each  gentleman  lighted 
his  cigar.  Mr.  Adams,  remarking  that  time  was 
short,  lighted  two  cigars,  and  put  one  into  each 
corner  of  his  mouth ;  and  in  this  fashion  proceeded 
to  the  Convention,  of  which  he  was  President. 

I  was  once  dining  with  Mr.  Webster  in  Washing 
ton,  when  the  mood  of  story-telling  came  upon  him, 
and  he  related  the  following  anecdote  about  the 
elder  Adams.  He  said  that  it  was  his  habit,  in  pass 
ing  through  Quincy,  during  the  later  years  of  Mr. 
Adams's  life,  to  stop  and  call  upon  him,  and  pay 
his  respects.  On  one  seventeenth  of  June,  near 
the  close  of  the  day,  he  was  driving  down,  and 
halted  at  Mr.  Adams's  door.  I  think  it  was  the 
very  year  that  the  "  President,"  as  Mr.  Webster 
was  wont  to  call  him,  died.  It  was  a  hot  afternoon, 
and  as  Mr.  Webster  went  in,  he  found  the  Presi 
dent  lying  on  the  sofa,  while  some  female  relative 
was  cooling  his  brow  by  fanning  him.  He  went  up 
to  the  sofa,  and  said  :  "  I  hope  the  President  is  well 
to-day." 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Adams.  "  I  don't  know,  Mr. 
Webster;  I  have  lived  in  this  old  and  frail  tene 
ment  a  great  many  years ;  it  is  very  much  dilapi 
dated  ;  and,  from  all  that  I  can  learn,  my  landlord 
doesn't  intend  to  repair  it.'' 

Mr.  Webster  once  gave  a  very  graphic  description 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       211 

of  Thomas  Jefferson,  whom  he  had  seen  at  Monti- 
cello. 

"  He  looked  to  me,"  said  he,  "  very  different 
from  any  ideal  that  I  had  formed  of  him.  He 
was  a  tall,  gaunt,  light-haired,  light-complexioned 
man,  and  not  a  person  of  impressive  aspect. 
Among  his*  strong  characteristics  was  a  great  dis 
like  for  Patrick  Henry.  He  conversed  freely  about 
Henry,  and  spoke  of  his  being  a  very  illiterate  man. 
He  pretended  to  be  a  lawyer,  but  he  was  a  mere 
pettifogger,  a  man  of  talent,  a  great  declaimer, 
a  splendid  orator,  but  not  profound.  For  such  a 
state  of  things  as  existed  at  the  breaking  out  of 
the  Revolution,  he  was  the  sort  of  person  who 
would  make  a  successful  denunciatory  speaker ; 
but,  if  he  had  lived  in  a  quiet  time,  he  would 
have  passed  along  without  being  observed  by  any 
body,  because  he  was  ignorant  and  uneducated, 
coarse,  and  very  lazy.  He  had  no  habits  of  indus 
try.  Mr.  Jefferson  told  me  that  he  did  not  think 
that  Henry  ever  read  three  law  books  in  his  life  ; 
and  yet  on  jury  trials  he  was  quite  a  famous  man. 
Some  days  before  my  visit,  Wirt's  Life  of  Henry 
had  appeared.  It  had  been  out  long  enough .  to 
have  been  read  and  somewhat  discussed.  I  spoke 
of  the  book,  and  Jefferson  smiled,  and  said  :  '  As 
you  see,  I  so  arrange  my  library  as  to  have  in  one 
department  history,  in  another  biography,  in  an 
other  poetry,  and  so  forth  ;  and  one  department  I 
reserve  for  works  of  fiction.  I  have  not  yet  placed 
this  book  of  Wirt's,  and  I  have  not  decided  whether 
to  put  it  in  the  department  of  biographies  or  in  that 


212  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

of  fiction ;  I  rather  think,  however,  it  is  best  suited 
for  the  latter/  " 

Mr.  Webster  was  greatly  interested  in  this  visit  to 
Jefferson,  and  he  said  that  very  much  of  the  early 
prejudice  which  he  had  imbibed  with  his  political 
opinions  in  youth,  when  he  considered  Jefferson  a 
great  heretic,  was  dispelled  when  he  came  into  per 
sonal  contact  with  the  aged  statesman,  and  saw  him 
in  his  home.  Jefferson's  great  simplicity  impressed 
him.  Mr.  Webster  believed  him  to  be  a  sincere 
man,  very  true  to  his  convictions ;  and  was  con 
vinced  that  much  of  the  abuse  heaped  upon  him 
by  the  opposite  party,  which  had  accused  him  of 
being  a  demagogue  and  an  anarchist,  was  unjust. 
Mr.  Webster  said  to  me  once,  in  speaking  of 
Jefferson,  that  he  had  more  deeply  impressed  his 
opinions  and  theories,  as  well  as  his  practical  ideas 
of  government,  upon  the  legislation  and  destinies  of 
the  country,  than  any  man  that  had  lived.  The 
government  was  new  under  the  first  President,  and 
a  great  deal  of  form  was  adopted  by  Washington 
as  necessary  to  the  dignity  of  office.  He  felt  the 
need  of  a  sort  of  court.  He  had  his  military 
notions  of  preserving  the  dignity  of  position,  which 
was  manifested  in  his  going  to  open  Congress 
in  a  coach  and  six  horses,  dressing  in  a  military 
costume,  and  observing  very  elaborate  forms  in  his 
receptions  and  visits  of  courtesy.  He  thought  it 
necessary  to  have  the  chief  executive  officer  of  a 
great  country  so  elevated  and  so  surrounded  by 
these  forms  and  trappings,  that  it  might  inspire 
a  feeling  of  respect  and  awe.  Jefferson  showed 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       213 

great  contempt  for  all  that  sort  of  thing.  He  said 
that  our  Kepublic  should  not  take  pattern  from 
any  other  Government  in  these  respects.  It  was, 
and  ought  to  be,  emphatically  a  democratic  gov 
ernment.  The  Executive  was  one  of  the  people, 
selected  as  their  agent  for  the  time  being.  There 
was  no  reason  in  the  world  why  he  should  be  at 
all  removed  from  the  people.  It  was  for  him  to 
administer  the  government  as  their  agent  for  a 
limited  time,  and  then  return  to  them  to  get  his 
living  as  other  people  did.  Jefferson  added,  that 
General  Washington  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  nec 
essary  to  grant  retiring  pensions  to  ex-Presidents ; 
but  it  was  not  necessary  in  Washington's  case,  and 
he  would  not  have  taken  it  had  it  been  offered  him. 
Jefferson's  ideas  of  republican  simplicity  became 
the  settled  policy  of  the  country,  and  were  carried 
out  in  all  our  intercourse  with  foreign  nations. 
Our  ministers  were  required  to  be  dressed  plainly. 
Jefferson's  instructions  were  that  they  should  ap 
pear  at  foreign  courts  as  the  envoys  of  a  republic, 
in  citizens'  costume.  He  would  have  it  understood, 
not  only  that  this  was  a  republic,  where  the  people 
were  sovereigns,  but  that  we  carried  out  our  re 
publicanism  in  our  intercourse  with  foreign  gov 
ernments. 

Mr.  Webster's  comment  was  that  he  thought  it 
fortunate  that  Jefferson's  ideas  prevailed.  They 
were,  undoubtedly,  more  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  our  institutions.  He  said  that,  in  carrying 
out  his  idea  of  republican  simplicity,  Jefferson  had 
to  contend  with  ideas  and  precedents  derived  from 


214  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

the  Mother  Country,  from  which  we  inherited  so 
many  of  our  laws,  habits,  and  customs.  Jefferson, 
however,  stamped  his  individuality,  his  peculiarities 
of  character,  upon  the  institutions  and  government 
of  the  country  more  strongly  than  any  other  states 
man  of  the  Kepublic's  infancy. 

From  the  beginning  of  Mr.  Webster's  public 
career  till  the  last  year  of  his  life,  Henry  Clay  was 
his  foremost  political  and  oratorical  rival ;  and  for 
at  least  a  quarter  of  a  century  these  two  famous 
men  contended  for  the  leadership  of  the  Whig 
party  and  for  its  preference  for  the  Presidency. 
Their  terms  of  public  service  were  almost  identical 
in  point  of  time.  They  served  side  by  side,  first 
in  the  House,  and  then  in  the  Senate  ;  each  in  turn 
occupied  the  high  office  of  Secretary  of  State,  and 
Webster  only  outlived  Clay  a  few  months.  There 
was  little  question  that,  during  this  long  period, 
the  palm  for  statesmanship  and  eloquence  lay  be 
tween  these  two,  who  towered  so  conspicuously 
above  all  the  rest  of  their  companions  in  the  ser 
vice  of  the  nation.  Two  characters  more  dissimi 
lar,  however,  could  scarcely  be  imagined ;  and  so 
different  had  been  their  bringing  up,  their  methods 
of  thought  and  motives  of  action,  their  tempera 
ments  and  their  aims,  that  it  scarcely  could  be  ex 
pected  that  they  should  become  familiar  and  cordial 
friends.  To  this  striking  diversity  of  character  add 
the  circumstances  of  their  earnest  rivalry,  their 
equal  ambition  for  leadership  and  for  the  highest 
office,  and  the  divided  allegiance  which  they  held 
from  the  party  to  which  both  belonged,  and  which 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS  CONTEMPORARIES.       215 

both  so  nobly  adorned,  and  we  see  at  once  that 
there  was  ample  reason  for  coldness  between  them. 

Mr.  Webster's  opinion  of  his  great  rival  could , 
not  but  be  deeply  interesting.  He  talked  very 
freely  of  Mr.  Clay.  He  frankly  admitted  that  he 
did  not  like  him.  They  belonged  to  the  same 
party,  and  their  political  ideas  harmonized  ;  but 
these  were  the  only  matters  in  which  they  agreed. 
Mr.  Webster  was  magnanimous  enough  to  support 
Mr.  Clay  heartily,  when  he  was  nominated  against 
Polk,  in  1844.  He  went  to  Pennsylvania  and  took 
1he  stump  in  his  behalf.  This  was  an  act  involving 
great  inconvenience  as  well  as  generosity  on  Mr. 
Webster's  part ;  for  it  was  a  laborious  and  exhaust 
ing  task,  and  he  felt  no  warmth  of  personal  regard 
for  the  man  whose  claims  he  was  advocating. 
When  he  was  about  starting  off  upon  this  tour, 
I  said  to  him  :  — 

"  I  should  let  Mr.  Clay  get  elected  to  the  Presi 
dency  in  his  own  way,  if  I  were  you." 

"  It  is  not  Mr.  Clay,"  he  replied  :  "  it  is  the  cause, 
the  great  cause,  the  success  of  which  I  believe  to  be 
for  the  interest  of  the  country.  Men  are  nothing, 
principles  are  every  thing.  Besides,  Mr.  Clay  is  fit 
to  be  President.  He  is  qualified  for  the  station. 
His  principles  are  such  as  I  approve ;  and  his 
ability  nobody  can  question.  Therefore,  I  am 
bound  as  an  honest  man  to  do  every  thing  I  can. 
And  when  I  say  that,  I  am  perfectly  well  aware 
that  Mr.  Clay  would  not  do  the  same  thing  for 


me." 


Nothing  in  the  course  of  the  events  which  de- 


216  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

feated  Mr.  Webster  at  Baltimore,  in  1852,  wounded 
him  more  than  what  Mr.  Clay  said  to  some  of  the 
delegates  who  were  on  their  way  to  attend  the 
convention.  Mr.  Clay's  remarks  were  repeated  to 
Mr.  Webster,  and  by  him  in  turn  to  me.  At  that 
time  Mr.  Clay  was  within  three  weeks  of  his  death, 
lingering  as  it  were  in  the  last  hours  of  his  exist 
ence.  The  delegates  called  to  pay  their  respects  to 
him,  and  he  admitted  some  of  them  to  his  presence. 
They  naturally  asked  his  opinion  as  to  whom  it 
was  best  to  support  at  Baltimore.  He  said  :  "  Fill- 
more,  by  ah1  means." 

"  But,"  said  they,  "  some  advocate  Scott ;  and 
others,  Webster." 

66  General  Scott  is  a  very  good  man,"  Clay  re 
plied  ;  "  he  is  a  political  friend  of  mine,  and  a 
good  soldier.  I  have  a  great  respect  for  him. 
Mr.  Webster  is  of  course  an  eminent  man,  and  all 
that ;  but  neither  of  these  men  has  ever  been  tried 
in  the  office.  Mr.  Fillmore  has :  why  not  go  for 
him  ?  " 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  scarcely  any  thing  wounded 
him  more  than  this  suggestion  of  Mr.  Clay,  that  Mr. 
Fillmore  should  be  preferred  because  he  had  been 
tried  and  found  competent,  and  that  he  (Webster) 
was  not  fit  to  be  President,  simply  because  he  never 
had  been  tried  in  that  office  !  "  The  thing  is  too 
absurd,"  said  he,  "  for  anybody  to  believe  that  it 
was  sincere.  I  think  my  treatment  of  Mr.  Clay 
did  not  justify  such  a  comment,  at  such  a  time, 
upon  my  qualifications  for  the  Presidency.  It 
wounded  me  very  much." 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       217 

I  think  Mr.  Webster  appreciated  all  Mr.  Clay's 
good  qualities.  He  said  that,  with  a  great  deal  of 
native  talent,  and  a  little  smattering  of  law, — 
less  than  that  possessed  by  mere  office  boys  in 
some  large  offices,  —  Mr.  Clay  went  into  the  wil 
derness  of  Kentucky;  and  with  a  good  address, 
natural  eloquence,  perseverance,  boldness,  and  all 
those  qualities  that  are  admired  by  a  new  people, 
he  became  an  influential  man.  In  Kentucky,  while 
there  was  no  lack  of  talent  in  the  legal  profession, 
neither  the  judiciary  nor  the  bar  could  be  called 
learned.  In  that  State,  therefore,  Mr.  Clay  be 
came  almost  supreme  as  an  advocate.  In  the  class 
of  trials  and  suits  that  would  naturally  come  before 
the  courts  of  such  a  district,  where  disputes  and 
brawls  of  all  sorts  were  constantly  arising,  the  man 
who  employed  Mr.  Clay  was  usually  the  successful 
party.  He  had  great  power  among  all  classes  of 
the  people.  He  early  went  into  public  life,  of 
course  without  having  had  much  opportunity  to 
study,  and  thus  make  up  for  the  deficiencies  of  his 
early  training.  Going  to  Washington  with  a  brill 
iant  reputation,  he  was  naturally  employed  in  a 
great  many  cases  in  the  Supreme  Court.  He  was 
not,  however,  adapted  by  training  or  education  to 
the  class  of  cases  that  were  tried  before  that  tribu 
nal.  There  were  no  juries  there ;  it  was  all  dry 
law,  all  logic. 

"  In  the  course  of  my  professional  life,"  said  Mr. 
Webster,  "it  has  happened  many  times  that  I 
found  myself  retained  in  the  same  cause  with  Mr. 
Clay.  He  was  my  senior  by  several  years,  in  the 


218  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

profession  and  in  age.  That  fact  gave  him  the 
right  to  speak  first  in  all  such  cases.  Often,  before 
beginning  my  argument,  I  have  had  to  labor  hard 
to  do  away  with  the  effect  and  impression  of  his. 
Some  of  the  most  laborious  acts  of  my  professional 
life  have  consisted  in  getting  matters  back  to  the 
starting  point,  after  Clay  had  spoken.  The  fact  is, 
he  was  no  lawyer.  He  was  a  statesman,  a  politi 
cian,  an  orator;  but  no  reasoner." 

Mr.  Webster  talked  with  me  about  Mr.  Clay's 
speech  on  the  Compromise  Measures,  and  declared 
that  it  was  a  prodigy.  He  said  that  when  Mr. 
Clay  spoke,  the  mercury  in  the  Senate  chamber 
was  at  100°.  "  He  was  incapable,"  added  Mr. 
Webster,  "  of  a  long,  protracted,  sustained  physi 
cal  effort;  and  I  could  hardly  conceive  how  it 
was  possible  for  him  to  endure  the  labor  necessary 
to  speak  as  he  did.  He  spoke  nearly  three  hours, 
to  a  densely  crowded  Senate.  I  never  listened  to 
him  with  so  much  admiration  and  wonder  as  on 
that  occasion.  He  is  a  very  great  man ;  there  is 
no  mistake  about  that ;  he  is  a  wonderful  man." 

Sometime  during  the  year  1844,.  when  Mr.  Clay 
was  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency,  the  news-boys 
were  very  busy  hawking  his  Life  about  the  streets 
of  New  York.  One  day,  as  Mr.  Webster  was  enter 
ing  his  carriage,  in  that  city,  a  boy  called  out  to 
him  with  great  earnestness :  "  Life  of  Clay,  Life 
of  Clay,  sir !  Will  you  take  the  Life  of  Clay  ? " 
"  Take  Mr.  Clay's  life  ?  Not  for  the  world !  "  re 
plied  Mr.  Webster. 

The  personal  relations  between  Mr.  Webster  and 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS    CONTEMPORARIES.       219 

Mr.  Calhoun  were  of  the  pleasantest  and  friendli 
est  character.  They  had  a  high  mutual  esteem  for 
each  other,  and  this  feeling  existed  down  to  the 
time  of  Mr.  Calhoun's  death.  Mr.  Webster  had 
the  most  exalted  opinion  of  the  great  South  Caro 
linian's  genius.  I  once  asked  him  whom  he  con 
sidered  the  greatest  man  he  had  met  in  the  Senate, 
or  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact  in  public 
life.  He  replied  without  hesitation,  "  John  C. 
Calhoun."  He  said  of  him  that  he  was  "long 
headed,  a  man  of  extraordinary  power,  —  much 
the  ablest  man  in  the  Senate." 

When  Mr.  Webster  was  about  to  deliver  his  7th 
of  March  speech,  he  invited  me  to  come  on  to 
Washington  to  hear  it.  He  intended  to  make  it  a 
great  effort,  the  crowning  address  of  his  later 
public  life ;  and,  as  he  knew  beforehand"  that  his 
action  and  motives  would  be  misconstrued,  and 
that  the  speech  would  bring  down  upon  him  con 
demnation  from  many  quarters,  he  was  resolved 
that  he  would  make  use  of  all  his  powers  to  ren 
der  it  worthy  of  his  really  high  motives  and  his 
fame.  Early  on  the  morning  of  the  7th,  I  was 
sitting  with  him  in  his  house,  when  the  sergeant- 
at-arms  of  the  Senate  came  in.  He  told  Mr.  Web 
ster  that  already  not  only  the  Senate  chamber  itself 
but  all  the  approaches  to  it  were  crowded  by  an 
eager  multitude.  A  great  speech  from  Mr.  Web 
ster  was  a  national  event.  Mr.  Webster  looked  at 
me  and,  in  a  sad  voice,  spoke  of  this  as  being  one 
of  the  last  times  that  he  should  ever  address  listen 
ing  masses  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate,  and  of  the 


220  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

rapidly  approaching  close  of  his  public  life.  Ee- 
covering  his  spirits  again  in  a  moment,  he  turned 
to  the  sergeant-at-arms,  and  said :  — 

66  However  crowded  the  Senate  chamber  is,  I 
want  you  to  be  sure  and  save  two  good  seats ;  one 
for  Mrs.  Webster,  and  the  other  for  my  old  friend 
Harvey  here,  who  has  come  all  the  way  from  Bos 
ton  to  hear  my  speech." 

The  sergeant-at-arms  promised  that  he  would  do 
so.  On  going  to  the  Senate  chamber  at  the  proper 
time,  I  found  an  excellent  seat  reserved  for  me, 
near  and  a  little  in  front  of  the  spot  where  Mr. 
Webster  would  stand  when  he  made  his  speech. 
While  he  was  speaking,  an  affecting  incident  oc 
curred,  which  illustrated  the  warmth  of  feeling 
between  Mr.  Calhoun  and  himself.  It  appeared 
that,  several  days  before,  Mr.  Webster  had  paid  a 
visit  to  Mr.  Calhoun  in  his  sick  room  at  the  old 
Capitol  building.  The  venerable  South  Carolina 
Senator  was  very  ill,  and  it  was  thought  that  he 
would  never  be  able  to  appear  in  his  seat  again ; 
the  conversation  turning  upon  the  speech  that  Mr. 
Webster  was  about  to  make,  the  sick  statesman 
expressed  an  earnest  wish  to  hear  it.  Mr.  Webster 
replied  that  he  hoped  he  would  be  able  to  get  to 
the  Senate,  as  he  himself  was  anxious  that  Mr. 
Calhoun  should  be  present.  Mr.  Calhoun  shook 
his  head  sadly,  and  said  that  he  feared  he  was  on 
his  death-bed ;  and  Mr.  Webster  parted  from  him, 
fully  impressed  with  the  belief  that  the  venerable 
jivalid  must  soon  pass  away. 

Mr.  Webster  had  not  been  speaking  long,  on 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       221 

this  occasion,  when  I  saw  a  tall,  gaunt  figure, 
wrapped  in  a  long  black  cloak,  with  deep,  cavern 
ous  black  eyes  and  a  thick  mass  of  snow-white  hair 
brushed  back  from  the  large  brow  and  falling  to 
the  shoulders,  advance  with  slow  and  feeble  steps 
through  the  lobby  behind  the  Vice-president's  chair, 
and  then,  aided  by  one  of  the  Senators,  approach 
and  sink  into  a  chair  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
chamber.  I  looked  at  Mr.  Webster,  and  observed 
that  as  he  spoke  his  face  was  turned  the  other  way, 
so  that  he  had  not  seen  the  almost  ghostly  figure 
come  in.  He  went  on  speaking  in  his  deep  and 
sonorous  tones ;  and  at  last  came  to  a  passage 
wherein  he  alluded  to  something  Mr.  Calhoun  had 
once  said  in  debate,  as  "the  utterance  of  the 
distinguished  and  venerable  Senator  from  South 
Carolina,  who,  I  deeply  regret,  is  prevented  by 
serious  illness  from  being  in  his  seat  to-day."  At 
this  I  glanced  towards  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  across 
the  chamber.  He  was  moving  restlessly  in  his 
chair ;  his  head  and  body  were  bent  eagerly  for 
ward,  and  he  made  an  effort  as  if  trying  to  rise 
and  interrupt  the  orator.  But  the  effort  seemed 
to  be  too  much  for  him,  for  he  sank  back  in  his 
chair,  evidently  exhausted.  The  noble  current  of 
Websterian  eloquence  flowed  majestically  on,  all 
unconscious  of  the  intended  interruption.  Pres 
ently  the  speaker  once  more  had  occasion  to  refer 
to  some  statement  of  Mr.  Calhoun  •  and  again  he 
alluded  to  him  as  "  the  eminent  Senator  from  South 
Carolina,  whom  we  ah1  regret  so  much  to  miss,  from 
such  a  cause,  from  his  seat  to-day." 


222          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

The  figure  again  grew  restless ;  the  hands  ner 
vously  grasped  both  arms  of  his  chair ;  the  black 
eyes  glared  and  shone  in  their  eagerness;  and 
now,  half  rising  from  his  seat,  and  unable  any 
longer  to  bear  the  thought  that  Mr.  Webster 
should  remain  unconscious  of  his  presence,  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  feeble  and  hollow  voice,  which 
yet  was  heard  throughout  the  chamber :  — 

"  The  Senator  from  South  Carolina  is  in  his 
seat !  " 

Mr.  Webster  turned  towards  him  with  some 
thing  like  a  start,  and  when  he  saw  that  his  friend 
had  actually  risen  from  the  bed  of  death,  and 
had  indeed  dared  death  itself  to  creep  to  the  Capi 
tol  and  hear  his  speech,  he  for  a  moment  betrayed 
visible  signs  of  deep  emotion.  Then,  acknowledg 
ing  this  touching  compliment  by  a  bow  and  a 
smile  of  profound  satisfaction,  he  went  on  with 
his  speech. 

A  few  days  more,  and  Calhoun  lay  dead,  in  state, 
within  those  very  walls. 

A  year  or  two  before  Mr.  Webster's  death,  he 
related  to  me  an  incident  which  illustrated  the 
great  change  that  came  over  Mr.  Benton  at  one 
period  of  his  life.  Mr.  Benton  carried  his  political 
and  party  prejudices  to  the  extreme. 

"We  had  had,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "a  great 
many  political  controversies;  we  were  hardly  on 
bowing  terms.  For  many  years  we  had  been  mem 
bers  of  the  same  body,  and  passed  in  and  out  at 
the  same  door  without  even  bowing  to  each  other, 
and  without  the  slightest  mutual  recognition ;  and 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.        223 

we  never  had  any  intercourse  except  such  as  was 
official,  and  where  it  could  not  be  avoided.  There 
were  no  social  relations  whatever  between  us. 

"  At  the  time  of  the  terrible  gun  explosion  on 
board  the  6  Princeton/  during  Mr.  Tyler's  adminis 
tration,  Mr.  Benton  was  on  board ;  and  he  related  to 
me  with  tears  this  incident.  He  said  he  was  stand 
ing  near  the  gun,  in  the  very  best  position  to  see  the 
experiment.  The  deck  of  the  steamer  was  crowded ; 
and,  with  the  scramble  for  places  to  witness  the 
discharge  of  the  gun,  his  position  perhaps  was  the 
most  favorable  on  the  deck.  Suddenly  he  felt  a 
hand  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  turned  ;  some  one 
wished  to  speak  to  him,  and  he  was  elbowed  out  of 
his  place  and  another  person  took  it,  very  much  to 
his  annoyance.  The  person  who  took  his  place 
was  ex-Governor  Gilmer,  of  Virginia,  then  Secre 
tary  of  the  Navy.  Just  at  that  instant  the  gun 
was  fired,  and  the  explosion  took  place.  Governor 
Gilmer  was  killed  instantly.  Mr.  Upshur,  then  Sec 
retary  of  State,  was  also  killed,  as  was  one  other 
man  of  considerable  prominence.  Colonel  Benton, 
in  relating  this  circumstance,  said :  '  It  seemed  to 
me,  Mr.  Webster,  as  if  that  touch  on  my  shoulder 
was  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  stretched  down  there, 
drawing  me  away  from  what  otherwise  would  have 
been  instantaneous  death.  I  was  merely  prostrated 
on  the  deck,  and  recovered  in  a  very  short  time. 
That  one  circumstance  has  changed  the  whole  cur 
rent  of  my  thoughts  and  life.  I  feel  that  I  am  a 
different  man,  and  I  want  in  the  first  place  to  be 
at  peace  with  all  those  with  whom  I  have  been  so 


224  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

sharply,  at  variance,  And  so  I  have  come  to  you. 
Let  us  bury  the  hatchet,  Mr.  Webster.'  '  Nothing/ 
replied  I,  '  could  be  more  in  accordance  with  my 
own  feelings.'  We  shook  hands  and  agreed  to  let 
the  past  be  past ;  and  from  that  time  our  intercourse 
was  pleasant  and  cordial.  After  this  time,  there 
was  no  person  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States 
of  whom  I  would  have  asked  a  favor,  any  reason 
able  and  proper  thing,  with  more  assurance  of 
obtaining  it,  than  of  Mr.  Benton." 

In  the  year  1847,  just  after  the  discovery  of 
gold  in  California,  and  after  Colonel  Fremont  had 
wrested  the  territory  from  Mexican  rule,  a  great 
deal  was  said  about  the  glory  of  his  achievements. 
There  was  a  great  rush  of  settlers  to  the  newly- 
acquired  territory,  and  universal  excitement  about 
it.  Colonel  Benton  was  in  "high  feather"  at  the 
success  of  his  son-in-law,  Colonel  Fremont,  and  was 
full  of  the  topic,  talking  of  nothing  else.  In  almost 
every  debate  in  the  Senate  he  alluded  to  it.  Col 
onel  Fremont's  name  was  in  everybody's  mouth, 
and  his  wonderful  deeds  were  the  subject  of  gen 
eral  laudation.  Everybody  who  went  to  California 
sought  Benton  to  get  letters  to  Fremont,  who  was 
a  sort  of  viceroy  out  there. 

One  day  after  dinner,  as  Mr.  Webster  was  seated 
in  his  library,  the  servant  announced  "  Mr.  Wilson, 
of  St.  Louis;"  and  John  Wilson  came  into  the 
library.  Mr.  Webster  at  once  rose  and  greeted 
him.  Narrating  the  visit  to  me  he  said  :  — 

"  Mr.  Wilson  was  a  gentleman  whom  I  had 
known  more  or  less  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  ; 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       225 

a  lawyer  of  pretty  extensive  practice  and  with  a 
good  deal  of  talent ;  a  man  of  very  violent  preju 
dices  and  temper,  who  had  spent  most  of  his  public 
life,  after  he  reached  manhood,  in  violent  opposi 
tion  to  Colonel  Benton.  It  was  not  so  much  an  op 
position  to  Colonel  Benton's  democracy  as  it  was  a 
personal  feud,  as  bitter  and  malignant  as  any  that 
ever  existed  between  two  men.  It  was  notorious 
in  St.  Louis  that,  when  Colonel  Benton  went  on 
the  stump,  John  Wilson  would  always  be  there  to 
meet  him,  and  to  abuse  him  in  the  most  virulent 
terms ;  and  that  Mr.  Benton  would  return  the  fire. 
I  had  not  seen  Wilson  for  a  good  many  years,  and 
had  only  met  him  occasionally  in  court.  He  came 
to  me  now,  a  broken  man,  prematurely  old,  with  a 
wrecked  fortune ;  and,  after  some  conversation,  he 
said  :  — 

"  '  I  am  going  to  emigrate  to  California  in  my 
old  age,  Mr.  Webster.  I  am  poor ;  I  have  a  family ; 
and,  although  it  matters  but  little  to  me  for  the 
short  time  that  remains  to  me,  if  I  am  poor,  yet 
there  are  those  who  are  dear  to  me,  whose  condi 
tion  I  might  improve  by  going  to  a  new  country 
and  trying  to  mend  my  fortunes.  My  object  in 
calling  on  you  is  to  trouble  you  for  a  letter  to  some 
one  in  California  ;  merely  to  say  that  you  know  me 
to  be  a  respectable  person,  worthy  of  confidence.' 

"  After  expressing  my  regret  that  he  should  feel 
obliged  to  emigrate  to  such  a  distance,  —  for  then 
it  looked  like  a  formidable  undertaking  to  go  to  Cali 
fornia,  —  I  asked  him  if  he  was  fully  determined. 

" '  Yes/  said  he,  '  I  have  made  up  my  mind/ 

15 


226  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"Then  I  set  about  thinking  what  I  could  do 
for  him.  I  saw  no  way  to  give  him  assistance.  I 
had  no  particular  influence  with  the  Government 
at  that  time ;  and  finally  I  said  :  — 

" '  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Wilson,  to  say  that,  so  far  as 
I  am  aware,  there  is  not  a  human  being  in  Cali 
fornia  that  I  know.  If  I  were  to  undertake  to  give 
a  letter  to  any  one  in  California,  I  should  not  know 
to  whom  to  address  it.' 

"  '  That  makes  no  difference,'  said  he  :  '  every 
body  knows  you,  and  a  certificate  that  you  know  me 
will  be  the  most  valuable  testimonial  I  could  have/ 

"  '  I  will  write  one  with  great  pleasure,  although 
you  probably  overrate  the  influence  of  my  name 
in  California.  I  want  to  do  you  a  service.  I  want 
to  give  you  something  that  will  be  of  benefit  to 
you.  Let  me  see,  Mr.  Wilson.  Colonel  Benton 
almost  owns  California ;  and  he  could  give  you  a 
letter  to  Fremont  and  others  that  would  be  of  first- 
rate  service  to  you.' 

"  He  looked  me  in  the  face,  half  astonished  and 
half  inquiringly,  as  much  as  to  say :  '  Can  it  be 
possible  that  you  are  ignorant  of  the  relations  be 
tween  Colonel  Benton  and  myself  ?  ' 

"  I  said :  ( I  understand  what  you  mean ;  I  am 
perfectly  well  aware  of  the  past  difficulties  between 
you  and  Mr.  Benton,  and  the  bitter  personal  hos 
tility  that  has  existed.  But  I  want  to  say  to  you, 
that  a  great  change  has  come  over  Colonel  Benton 
since  you  knew  him.  His  feelings  and  sentiments 
are  softened.  We  are  all  getting  older.  Our  fiery 
hot  blood  is  getting  cooled  and  changed.  It  is 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       227 

hardly  worth  while  for  men,  when  they  are  getting 
up  pretty  near  the  maximum  of  human  life,  to  in 
dulge  in  these  feelings  of  enmity  and  ill-will.  It 
is  a  thing  that  we  ought  to  rid  ourselves  of.  Col 
onel  Benton  and  I  have  been  engaged  in  a  war 
of  words,  as  you  and  he  have ;  and,  up  to  two  or 
three  years  ago,  we  went  out  of  the  same  door  for 
years  without  so  much  as  saying  '  Good-morning ' 
to  one  another.  Now,  I  do  not  know  a  man  in  the 
Senate  to  whom  I  would  go  with  more  certainty  of 
having  a  favor  granted  than  to  Colonel  Benton. 
He  feels  that  age  is  coming  upon  him,  and  he  is 
reconciled  to  many  of  his  bitterest  opponents. 

" '  Is  thy  servant  a  dog/  replied  Wilson,  '  that 
he  should  do  this  thing  ?  I  would  not  have  a  let 
ter  from  him,  I  would  not  speak  to  him,  I  would 
not  be  beholden  to  him  for  a  favor,  —  not  to  save 
the  life  of  every  member  of  my  family  !  No,  sir  ! 
The  thought  of  it  makes  me  shudder.  I  feel  indig 
nant  at  the  mention  of  it.  /  take  a  letter  from 
Mr.  Benton  ?  I  - 

"  ;  Stop,  stop  ! '  said  I ;  '  that  is  the  old  man  speak 
ing  in  you.  That  is  not  the  spirit  in  which  to  in 
dulge.  I  know  how  you  feel.'  And  while  he  was 
raving  and  protesting  and  declaring,  by  all  the  saints 
in  the  calendar,  his  purpose  to  accept  no  favor  from 
Colonel  Benton,  I  turned  round  to  my  desk,  and 
addressed  a  note  to  Benton,  something  like  this : 

DEAR  SIE,  —  I  am  well  aware  of  the  disputes,  personal 
and  political,  which  have  taken  place  between  yourself  and 
the  bearer  of  this  note,  Mr.  John  Wilson.  But  the  old  gen 
tleman  is  now  poor,  and  is  going  to  California,  and  needs  a 


228  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

letter  of  recommendation.  I  know  nobody  in  California  to 
whom  I  could  address  a  letter  that  would  be  of  any  service 
to  him.  You  know  everybody,  and  a  letter  from  you  would 
do  him  a  great  deal  of  good.  I  have  assured  Mr.  Wilson 
that  it  will  give  you  more  pleasure  to  forget  what  has  passed 
between  you  and  him,  and  to  give  him  a  letter  that  will  do 
him  good,  than  it  will  him  to  receive  it.  I  am  going  to  per 
suade  him  to  carry  you  this  note,  and  I  know  you  will  be 
glad  to  see  him. 

"  Wilson  got  through  protesting,  and  I  read  him 
the  note.  Then  I  said  :  — 

" '  I  want  you  to  carry  it  to  Benton.' 

"  '  I  won't !  '    he  replied. 

"  I  coaxed  and  scolded  and  reasoned,  and  brought 
every  consideration,  —  death,  eternity,  and  every 
thing  else,  —  to  bear;  but  it  seemed  to  be  of  no 
use.  Said  I :  — 

"  '  Wilson,  you  will  regret  it/ 

"  After  a  while  he  got  a  little  softened,  and  some 
tears  flowed  ;  and  at  last  I  made  him  promise, 
rather  reluctantly,  that  he  would  deliver  the  note 
at  Colonel  Benton's  door,  if  he  did  not  do  any 
more.  He  told  me  afterwards  that  it  was  the  bit 
terest  pill  he  ever  swallowed.  Colonel  Benton's 
house  was  not  far  from  mine.  Wilson  took  the 
note,  and,  as  he  afterwards  told  me,  went  up  with 
trembling  hands,  put  the  note,  with  his  own  card, 
into  the  hand  of  the  girl  who  came  to  the  door,  and 
ran  away  to  his  lodgings.  He  had  been  scarcely 
half  an  hour  in  his  room,  trembling  to  think  what 
he  had  done,  when  a  note  came  from  Colonel  Ben- 
ton,  saying  he  had  received  the  card  and  note,  and 
that  Mrs.  Benton  and  himself  would  have  much 


MR.  WEBSTER   AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.        229 

pleasure  in  receiving  Mr.  Wilson  at  Breakfast,  at 
nine  o'clock,  the  next  morning.  They  would  wait 
breakfast  for  him,  and  no  answer  T^as  expected ! 

"  '  The  idea !  '  said  he  to  himself,  <  that  I  am 
going  to  breakfast  with  Tom  Benton !  John  Wil 
son  !  what  will  people  say ;  and  what  shall  I  say  ? 
The  thing  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  And  yet  I 
must.  I  have  delivered  the  note,  and  sent  my 
card  •  if  I  don't  go  now,  it  will  be  rude.  I  wish  I 
had  not  taken  it.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  as  if  I 
could  go  and  sit  there  at  that  table/  '  I  lay  awake,' 
said  he  afterwards,  to  me,  '  that  night,  thinking  of 
it ;  and  in  the  morning  I  felt  as  a  man  might  feel 
who  had  had  sentence  of  death  passed  upon  him, 
and  was  called  by  the  turnkey  to  get  up  for  his  last 
breakfast.  I  rose,  however,  made  my  toilet,  and, 
after  hesitating  a  great  deal,  went  to  Colonel  Ben- 
ton's  house.  My  hands  trembled  as  I  rang  the  bell. 
Instead  of  the  servant,  the  colonel  himself  came  to 
the  door.  He  took  me  cordially  by  both  hands, 
and  said  :  "  Wilson,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  ;  this 
is  the  happiest  meeting  I  have  had  for  twenty 
years.  Give  me  your  hand.  Webster  has  done 
the  kindest  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life."  Leading 
me  directly  to  the  dining-room,  he  presented  me 
to  Mrs.  Benton,  and  then  we  sat  down  to  break 
fast.  After  inquiring  kindly  about  my  family,  he 
said :  "  You  and  I,  Wilson,  have  been  quarrelling 
on  the  stump  for  twenty-five  years.  We  have 
been  calling  each  other  hard  names,  but  really 
with  no  want  of  mutual  respect  and  confidence. 
It  has  been  a  mere  foolish  political  fight,  and  let's 


230          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

wipe  it  out  of  mind.  Every  thing  that  I  have  said 
about  you  I  ask  your  pardon  for.'*  We  both  cried 
a  little,  and  I  asked  his  pardon,  and  we  were  good 
friends.  We  talked  over  old  matters,  and  spent 
the  morning  till  twelve  o'clock  in  pleasant  conver 
sation.  Nothing  was  said  of  the  letter,  until  just 
as  I  was  about  departing.  He  turned  to  his  desk, 
and  said :  "  I  have  prepared  some  letters  for  you  to 
my  son-in-law  and  other  friends  in  California ; " 
and  he  handed  out  nine  sheets  of  foolscap. 

" '  It  was  not  a  letter,  but  a  ukase ;  a  command  to 
"  every  person  to  whom  these  presents  shall  come, 
greeting ; "  it  was  to  the  effect  that  whoever  re 
ceived  them  must  give  special  attention  to  the 
wants  of  his  particular  friend,  Colonel  John  Wilson, 
of  Saint  Louis.  Every  thing  was  to  give  way  to 
that.  He  put  them  into  my  hands,  and  I  thanked 
him,  and  left.'" 

Mr.  Webster  continued  :  "  Colonel  Benton  after 
wards  came  to  me,  and  said  :  '  Webster,  that  was 
the  kindest  thing  you  ever  did.  God  bless  you  for 
sending  John  Wilson  to  me  !  That  is  one  trouble 
some  thing  off  my  mind.  That  was  kind,  Webster. 
Let  us  get  these  things  off  our  minds  as  fast  as  we 
can ;  we  have  not  much  longer  to  stay ;  we  have 
got  pretty  near  the  end  ;  we  want  to  go  into  the 
presence  of  our  Maker  with  as  little  of  enmity  in 
our  hearts  as  possible.' 

"  I  told  him  how  much  pleasure  it  gave  me  to 
reconcile  persons  who  had  been  alienated.  It  was 
better  than  a  great  senatorial  triumph.  '  And  now,' 
I  added,  '  I  have  one  other  thing  in  my  heart,  and 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       231 

I  am  determined  to  bring  it  to  pass.  We  have 
talked  these  matters  over,  —  of  how  little  conse 
quence  are  all  these  personal  bickerings  and  strifes 
to  a  man  when  he  gets  near  the  end  of  life.  What 
are  all  these  honors  and  contests  to  a  man  when 
the  interests  of  the  future  life  begin  to  magnify  in 
his  eyes,  and  those  of  this  life  to  dwindle  away? 
Now,  colonel,  look  at  me.  You  have  been  a  great 
many  years  in  the  United  States  Senate,  and  your 
relations  to  Mr.  Calhoun  are  not  friendly.  I  want 
to  reconcile  you  and  Mr.  Calhoun,  and  then  I  shall 
be  content ! ' 

"  t  Webster/  he  replied,  curtly,  c  don't  you  men 
tion  that  to  me  !  Anybody  else  —  anybody ;  you 
may  tell  me  to  go  and  ask  the  pardon  of  a  negro 
in  the  jail,  and  I  will  go  and  do  it.  But  I  won't 
be  reconciled  to  Calhoun,  —  I  won't,  sir !  Calhoun 
is  a  humbug.  I  won't  have  any  thing  to  do  with 
him,  —  I  won't,  sir !  My  mind  is  made  up.  Any 
body  else,  but  not  Calhoun.  He  is  a  humbug,  and 
I  won't  do  it,  sir ! '" 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  when  Mr.  Calhoun' s  life 
less  body  was  brought  into  the  Senate,  the  com 
mittee  of  arrangements  who  had  charge  of  such 
matters  of  course  selected  from  the  contemporaries 
of  Mr.  Calhoun  such  gentlemen  as  they  thought 
would  esteem  it  a  privilege  to  speak. 

"I  never  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "per 
formed  a  more  pleasing  duty  at  a  service  of  that 
kind,  —  solemn  and  touching ;  for  I  had  very  great 
respect  for  Mr.  Calhoun.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
worth,  most  sincere,  upright,  —  and  with  all  the 


232  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

qualities,  not  only  of  a  very  great  man,  but  of  a 
very  estimable  one." 

The  committee  invited  Colonel  Benton  to  speak, 
not  with  the  expectation  that  he  would  consent  to 
do  so,  but  because  they  thought  it  was  due  to  his 
age  that  he  should  have  an  opportunity  at  such  an 
hour,  when  every  thing  should  be  banished  from 
the  heart  but  kindness,  to  say  a  word.  But  he 
declined  without  comment.  Mr.  Webster  said  : 

"  His  seat  was  directly  opposite  mine,  and  while 
I  was  making  the  few  remarks  which  the  state  of 
my  feelings  would  allow,  I  looked  across,  and  saw 
that  Benton  had  his  back  turned  to  the  Senate,  and 
was  twirling  his  spectacles  inattentively.  So  strong 
was  the  feeling  of  dislike  which  he  entertained  for 
Mr.  Calhoun." 

Mr.  Benton  had  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  and 
seemed  to  have  acquired  more  political  facts  than 
any  man  Mr.  Webster  had  ever  met ;  even  more 
than  John  Quincy  Adams.  He  had  a  wonderful 
memory,  and  read  every  thing ;  and  gave  his 
whole  time  and  attention  to  politics,  never  prac 
tising  his  profession.  During  the  discussions  on 
the  Oregon  bill,  Mr.  Benton  made  a  speech,  as  did 
many  other  members ;  and  near  the  close  of  the 
debate  Mr.  Webster  was  about  to  speak,  and 
wanted  to  get  a  book,  of  which  he  had  an  indis 
tinct  recollection,  for  some  geographical  fact  to 
illustrate  a  point  in  his  remarks.  It  was  something 
that  he  had  seen  a  great  many  years  before  in  a 
book  which  was  now  probably  out  of  print.  He 
only  knew  the  name  of  its  author,  but  he  set  to 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       233 

work  to  find  it.  He  asked  Peter  Force,  who  had 
collected  a  great  political  library  at  Washington ; 
but  Mr.  Force  could  not  find  it.  He  then  got  the 
librarian  of  Congress  to  hunt  for  it ;  but  he,  also, 
had  no  success.  Mr.  Webster  was  about  giving  it 
up  in  despair,  when  it  occurred  to  him  to  speak  to 
Benton.  He  went  to  him,  and  said  :  — 

"  You  know  every  thing,  colonel,  and  where 
every  thing  is.  Have  you  any  recollection  or 
knowledge  of  such  a  geography,  such  a  book,  or 
such  an  author  ?  " 

The  colonel  stopped  a  moment  to  think,  and 
then  replied :  — 

"  I  know  what  you  want ;  I'll  see  if  I  can  find  it." 

An  hour  afterwards,  Mr.  Webster,  having  left  the 
Senate,  returned  to  his  seat ;  and,  as  he  said  to 
me,  "  There,  lying  on  my  desk,  was  an  immense 
book,  with  a  leaf  turned  down  to  the  place  that  I 
wanted  to  find,  although  I  had  not  said  a  word  as 
to  the  particular  part  of  the  book  I  wanted  to  con 
sult.  Without  any  suggestion  of  mine,  Mr.  Benton 
had  guessed  at  what  I  wanted,  and  turned  down  the 
leaf.  I  looked  up  from  my  desk  to  his,  and  there 
he  was,  bowing  to  me,  as  if  to  say,  '  That's  it.'  I 
do  not  suppose  there  was  another  man  who  could 
have  found  that  book  for  me." 

Of  Silas  Wright,  Mr.  Webster  had  a  very  poor 
opinion. 

"  He  is  the  most  over-rated  man,"  said  he,  "  that 
I  have  ever  met.  He  is  oracular,  wise-looking, 
taciturn,  and  cunning  as  a  fox.  He  was  the  most 
inferior  man  in  debate  that  sat  in  the  Senate.  You 


234  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

have  seen  boys  at  school  who  would  contrive  in 
some  way  to  skip  the  hard  spelling.  He  always 
skipped  the  hard  places.  His  arguments,  besides 
being  weak  and  fallacious,  were  always  evasive. 
He  would  try  to  make  the  crowd  think  he  had 
answered,  when  he  had  not  touched  the  point.  In 
my  judgment  he  was  a  very  small  man,  —  a  mere 
politician,  and  no  statesman." 

Of  James  Buchanan  he  said :  — 

"  Buchanan  is  a  good  politician,  but  he  is  no 
statesman.  He  merely  looks  at  things  as  they 
affect  the  party." 

Mr.  Webster  always  cherished  a  very  profound 
regard  and  love  for  Rufus  Choate.  No  man  lived 
for  whom  he  had  more  affection.  This  regard  was 
heartily  reciprocated.  Mr.  Choate  could  always 
be  relied  upon  to  serve  Mr.  Webster's  interests, 
and  his  friendship  and  advocacy  of  Mr.  Webster 
were  valuable,  because  there  were  few  other  such 
men  as  he.  Mr.  Webster  used  often  to  send  to 
Mr.  Choate  for  advice  ;  and  I  was  frequently  the 
bearer  of  messages  requesting  Mr.  Choate's  counsel 
upon  matters  more  particularly  connected  with  Mr. 
Webster's  political  prospects  and  plans.  Their  con 
fidence  in  this  respect  was  complete.  Mr.  Web 
ster  used  to  talk  of  Choate  a  great  deal ;  and,  after 
he  had  been  away,  on  his  return  one  of  his  first 
inquiries  would  be,  "  How  is  Choate  ?  "  When  I 
visited  him  at  Washington,  on  one  occasion,  I  recol 
lect  Choate  was  the  first  person  he  inquired  about. 
We  were  driving  out  one  afternoon,  and  he  began 
talking  about  Choate. 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       235 

I  said  :  "  There  are  many  persons  in  the  profes 
sion  who  envy  and  slander  him,  and  attempt  to 
make  light  of  and  to  ridicule  his  elocution." 

"  When  I  was  a  young  man/'  responded  Mr. 
Webster,  "  and  first  entered  the  law,  my  style  oi 
oratory  was  as  round  and  florid  as  Choate's.  I  do 
not  think  it  is  the  best.  It  is  not  according  to 
my  taste.  But  then  there  is  no  man  in  the  world 
beside  Choate  who  could  succeed  with  that  style. 
It  is  his  own.  It  is  peculiar  to  him.  It  is  as  nat 
ural  to  him  as  any  constitutional  trait  about  him. 
Nobody  can  imitate  him.  He  imitates  nobody. 
And  his  style  is  most  effective.  I  have  had  occa 
sion  to  know,  and  I  can  say  to  those  who  criticise 
him  what  they  themselves  know,  that,  had  they 
the  power  to  use  his  style  of  eloquence,  they  would 
not  be  long  in  forgetting  its  bad  taste,  and  would 
soon  be  using  it  for  the  benefit  of  their  clients. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  Mr.  Choate, 
in  that  flowery  elocution,  does  not  keep  his  logic 
all  right.  Amid  all  that  pile  of  flowers  there  is  a 
strong,  firm  chain  of  logic.  He  never  loses'  sight 
of  that.  He  never  forgets  that,  or  is  carried  away 
from  it.  He  is  very  keen  and  very  effective.'1 

When  Judge  Woodbury  died,  in  1851,  and  there 
was  therefore  a  vacancy  in  the  United  States  Su 
preme  Court,  something  was  said  about  conferring 
the  appointment  on  Mr.  Choate,  and  Mr.  Webster 
said :  — 

"  Mr.  Choate  will  have  the  offer  of  this,  but  I  do 
not  know  as  he  will  take  it.  The  offer  is  due  to 
him  as  the  first  lawyer  in  New  England.  I  shall 
make  him  the  offer." 


230  REMINISCENCES   OF   DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

And  he  did ;  but  Mr.  Choate  declined  to  take  it. 

Mr.  Webster  related  to  me  an  interesting  inci 
dent  relative  to  his  first  introduction  to  Senator 
Preston,  of  South  Carolina.  Mr.  Preston  was  a 
grandson  of  Patrick  Henry,  and  was  said  to  be,  in 
gome  respects,  the  most  eloquent  man  in  the  United 
States  Senate ;  he  certainly  was  a  brilliant  man 
and  a  great  declaimer.  In  nullification  times,  Mr. 
Preston  was  a  nullifier,  a  disciple  of  Calhoun.  After 
the  great  debate  on  Foote's  resolutions  between 
Hayne  and  Webster,  Preston  changed  his  views, 
and  became  a  Unionist.  Party  politics  were  divided 
in  South  Carolina  differently  from  what  they  were 
in  any  other  part  of  the  country.  There  were  the 
nullifiers,  or  States' -rights  party,  and  the  Demo 
crats.  There  was  no  Whig  party  there.  Preston 
belonged  to  the  States' -rights  or  Calhoun  party. 
That  party  embraced  the  talent  and  nearly  all  the 
brilliant  men  in  South  Carolina,  including  Gover 
nors  Hayne  and  McDuffie.  After  the  great  debate 
between  Hayne  and  Webster,  there  was  a  marked 
revolution  of  feeling  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
even  in  South  Carolina  itself.  Some  of  the  ablest 
men  in  that  State,  who  were  honest  in  their  views, 
and  among  them  Mr.  Preston,  became  satisfied  that 
their  position  was  wrong.  Mr.  Preston  had  not 
then  come  into  public  life,  had  never  been  in  Con 
gress  ;  but  he  was,  some  years  after  that,  elected  to 
the  United  States  Senate  as  a  Union  man.  When 
he  first  went  to  Washington,  he  had  never  seen 
Mr.  Webster ;  but  soon  after  his  arrival  they  were 
at  some  house,  by  invitation,  and  he  was  intro- 


MR.  WEBSTER   AND   HIS    CONTEMPORARIES.        237 

duced  to  Mr.  Webster.  After  the  ordinary  court 
esies  of  an  introduction  had  been  exchanged,  the 
conversation  dropped ;  but  Mr.  Webster  noticed 
that  Preston  was  scrutinizing  him,  and  gazing  at 
him  in  a  manner  which  was  almost  rude.  Preston 
said  nothing,  but  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from  Mr. 
Webster's  person.  Mr.  Webster  felt  a  little  annoyed 
at  that  sort  of  staring;  and,  as  it  was  continued 
for  a  minute  or  more,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and 
went  to  some  other  part  of  the  room :  but,  in  a 
moment,  Mr.  Preston  came  up  to  him,  and  said  : 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Webster,  for  what  may  seem  to 
be  my  rudeness  in  gazing  at  you.  My  apology  is 
this.  I  have  had  a  very  strong  desire  to  meet  you, 
and  have  anticipated  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
the  event  of  seeing  you,  and  of  gazing  for  the  first 
time  upon  the  man  who  cured  me  of  that  abomina 
ble  heresy,  nullification.  You  were  to  me  what 
God  was  to  St.  Paul ;  I  was  travelling  in  the  way, 
verily  thinking  I  was  doing  God  service,  when  the 
light  burst  upon  me,  the  scales  fell,  and  I  saw  the 
truth." 

George  Evans  was  a  personal  and  political  friend 
of  Mr.  Webster,  but  opposed  his  nomination  at  Bal 
timore-,  in  1852,  and  went  with  the  Maine  delegation 
for  General  Scott.  Among  the  many  unpleasant  in 
cidents  of  that  convention,  —  old  friends  deserting 
him  and  the  like,  —  this  affected  Mr.  Webster  more 
than  any  thing.  It  wounded  him,  and  he  very  sel 
dom  spoke  of  it  without  considerable  feeling.  Mr. 
Evans  was  one  of  the  few  men  whom  he  regarded 
as  his  equals  in  the  Senate.  They  were  on  inti- 


238  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

mate  social  relations,  constantly  at  each  other's 
houses.  Mr.  Evans  would  go  into  Mr.  Webster's 
almost  like  a  brother,  and  stop  to  dine  and  chat. 
He  was  always  most  profuse  in  his  protestations  of 
regard  for,  and  interest  in,  Mr.  Webster ;  and  the 
feeling  was  reciprocated.  The  greatest  compli 
ment  ever  paid  to  Evans  was  by  Mr.  Webster,  just 
before  leaving  the  Senate ;  when  he  spoke  of  the 
retirement  of  Mr.  Evans  from  that  body.  Mr. 
Webster  said  that  "  The  country  would  lose  the 
services  of  the  distinguished  Senator  from  Maine, 
who  had  been  Chairman  of  the  Committee  on 
Commerce,  and  whose  reports  were  models,  long 
unsurpassed  in  ability,  on  the  subject  of  Finance. 
The  country  had  more  to  regret  than  the  gentle 
man,  in  losing  the  services  of  such  a  man  at  such 
a  time." 

Mr.  Evans  went  into  the  Baltimore  Convention, 
and  worked  with  all  his  might  for  the  nomination 
of  Scott.  The  only  reason  he  gave  was,  that  it  was 
of  no  use,  they  could  not  nominate  Webster ;  that 
it  lay  between  Scott  and  Fillmore,  and  that  Scott 
was  the  most  available  man.  My  comment  was, 
that  a  man  who  held  that  relation  of  close  friendship 
should,  from  good  faith,  whatever  he  might  have 
thought,  have  stood  by  the  man  who  had  been  his 
friend,  as  Mr.  Webster  had  been  to  Mr.  Evans.  But 
he  looked  upon  his  duty  in  a  different  light.  Mr. 
Webster  could  hardly  believe  that  Evans  would  go 
into  the  Convention  from  Maine  against  him,  al 
though  he  was  elected  as  a  Scott  delegate  ;  and  he 
never  believed,  up  to  the  time  that  the  Convention 


MR.  WEBSTER   AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.        239 

met,  that  Evans  would  be  found  opposed  to  him. 
He  thought  Evans  had  taken  the  nomination  as  a 
Scott  man,  and  that  he  would  figure  for  Webster 
when  it  came  to  the  vote.  Evans  was  made  tempo 
rary  chairman  by  the  Scott  delegates,  and  acted  all 
through  with  them.  I  think  Mr.  Webster  never 
saw  him  after  that.  After  Mr.  Webster's  return 
home  in  July,  in  speaking  as  he  did  frequently 
and  freely  to  me  of  that  Convention,  its  doings, 
and  the  part  men  took  in  it,  he  did  not  show  the 
slightest  bitterness.  He  never  uttered  one  word 
of  reproach  against  anybody.  When  I  was  pretty 
severe  in  my  comments  upon  some  of  the  men,  he 
would  say :  — 

"  Well,  they  were  perhaps  acting  conscientiously, 
and  did  what  they  deemed  to  be  their  duty ;  and 
in  this  they  did  right.  We  must  not  be  too  harsh, 
or  judge  them  too  severely;  we  must  make  allow 
ance  for  the  selfishness  of  public  men.  They 
thought,  perhaps,  that  their  own  prospects  might 
be  injured  by  advocating  the  interest  of  a  man 
who  was  not  likely  to  be  successful  in  the  Con 
vention." 

I  told  him  that  if  we  could  have  got  the  Maine 
delegation,  her  thirty-three  votes,  with  the  South 
ern  votes  that  we  knew  we  could  get  when  they 
were  needed,  would  have  nominated  him. 

"  I  could  not  have  believed,"  he  replied,  "  that 
George  Evans  would  have  gone  against  me  under 
those  circumstances  ;  I  never  could  have  believed 
that  he  would  be  found  working  against  me."  This 
he  said  with  a  good  deal  of  feeling. 


240  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  I  regret  more  than  I  can  express/'  he  added, 
"  that  it  was  done  by  my  friend  ;  by  a  man  that  I 
esteemed  as  one  of  my  warmest  and  best  friends. 
But  that  has  passed  ;  he  probably  thought  he  was 
acting  honorably.  He  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  it, 
and  I  have  no  right  to  complain.  Let  it  go." 

For  Mr.  Hiram  Ketchum  Mr.  Webster  had  a 
great  regard.  He  told  me  once  that  there  was  no 
body  in  whom  he  felt  so  much  confidence,  in  polit 
ical  matters,  as  in  him.  He  did  not  have  a  very 
exalted  opinion  of  New  York  politicians  generally, 
but  made  an  exception  in  favor  of  Mr.  Ketchum. 
Blatchford,  too,  —  who  never  professed  to  be  much 
of  a  politician,  and  with  whom  in  political  matters 
Mr.  Webster  did  not  have  much  to  do,  —  won  his 
esteem  and  confidence.  He  was  a  disinterested, 
warm,  true,  personal  friend.  Their  correspondence 
shows  the  cordial  feeling  which  existed  between 
them. 

Mr.  Webster  had  cordial  and  friendly  relations, 
while  in  the  Senate,  with  many  of  the  most  promi 
nent  and  earnest  of  his  political  opponents.  The 
following  letter  written  by  him  to  Hon.  Daniel  S. 
Dickinson,  on  Mr.  Webster's  retirement  from  the 
Senate  and  acceptance  of  the  office  of  Secretary 
of  State,  shows  that,  while  there  had  once  been 
serious  differences  between  the  two  statesmen, 
their  later  intercourse  had  been  of  the  kind 
liest  :  — 

WASHINGTON,  Sept.  27,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  Sin,  —  Our  companionship  in  the  Senate  is  dis 
solved.  After  this  long  and  most  important  session,  you  are 


MR.  WEBSTER   AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       241 

about  to  return  to  your  home  ;  and  I  shall  try  to  find  leisure 
to  visit  mine.  I  hope  we  may  meet  each  other  again  two 
months  hence,  for  the  discharge  of  our  duties,  in  our  respec 
tive  stations  in  the  Government.  But  life  is  uncertain  ;  and 
I  have  not  felt  willing  to  take  leave  of  you  without  placing 
in  your  hands  a  note,  containing  a  few  words  which  I  wish 
to  say  to  you. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  our  acquaintance,  my  dear  sir,  occur 
rences  took  place  which  I  remember  with  constantly  increas 
ing  regret  and  pain  ;  because,  the  more  I  have  known  of  you, 
the  greater  have  been  my  esteem  for  your  character  and  my 
respect  for  your  talents.  But  it  is  your  noble,  able,  manly, 
and  patriotic  conduct,  in  support  of  the  great  measure  of 
this  session,  which  has  entirely  won  my  heart  and  secured 
my  highest  regard.  I  hope  you  may  live  long  to  serve  your 
country ;  but  I  do  not  think  you  are  ever  likely  to  see  a 
crisis  in  which  you  may  be  able  to  do  so  much,  either  for 
your  own  distinction  or  the  public  good.  You  have  stood 
where  others  have  fallen  ;  you  have  advanced,  with  firm  and 
manly  step,  where  others  have  wavered,  faltered,  and  fallen 
back ;  and  for  one,  I  desire  to  thank  you,  and  to  commend 
your  conduct,  out  of  the  fulness  of  an  honest  heart. 

This  letter  needs  no  reply  ;  it  is,  I  am  aware,  of  very  little 
value  ;  but  I  have  thought  you  might  be  willing  to  receive 
it,  and  perhaps  to  leave  it  where  it  would  be  seen  by  those 
who  shall  come  after  you.  I  pray  you,  when  you  reach  your 
own  threshold,  to  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife 
and  daughter.  I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  the  truest  es 
teem. 

Your  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
Hon.  DANIEL  S.  DICKINSON,  U.  S.  Senate. 

Speaking  once  of  Senator  Thomas  J.  Rusk,  of 
Texas,  Mr.  Webster  said  :  — 

"  Good  sometimes  comes  out  of  evil.  How 
earnestly  we  opposed  the  admission  of  Texas,  and 
how  deeply  the  country  felt  that  we  were  taking 

16 


242  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

a  stranger  into  our  family  that  was  not  of  us,  and 
that  we  were  going  to  bring  into  Congress  the  rep 
resentatives  of  a  people  entirely  unlike  ourselves ! 
Just  think  of  it !  There  is  Texas,  whose  first  sen 
ators  are  Houston  and  Rusk,  who,  in  all  the  legisla 
tion  in  which  they  have  been  called  upon  to  act,  have 
represented  their  State  as  well  as  any  State  in  the 
Union  has  been  represented.  Eusk  is  one  of  the 
very  first  men  in  the  Senate.  He  is  a  man  of  per 
fect  integrity,  and  of  a  very  high  order  of  ability. 
I  like  him  ver}^  much.  So  we  see  that  the  things 
which  we  sometimes  think  are  going  to  injure  us  the 
most  are  really  blessings.  Providence  overrules. 
In  many  emergencies  we  could  hardly  have  done 
without  the  conservative  vote  of  Texas.  She  has 
always  been  in  favor  of  conservative  measures. 
She  went  for  the  Washington  Treaty;  and,  on  all 
measures  calculated  to  strengthen  the  condition  of 
the  whole  country,  we  have  found  Texas  with  us." 
For  Samuel  A.  Eliot  Mr.  Webster  had  a  very 
warm  friendship.  Mr.  Eliot  stood  by  him  when  he 
came  to  Congress  for  the  short  term,  during  the 
discussion  of  the  Compromise  Measures.  Mr.  Web 
ster  was  actively  engaged  in  carrying  those  meas 
ures  through,  and  he  used  to  say  that  he  got  great 
aid  and  comfort  from  Samuel  A.  Eliot.  Mr.  Eliot 
was  a  man  who  had  decided  opinions  of  his  own, 
and  who  asked  no  favors.  He  went  to  Washing 
ton  to  do  what  he  thought  was  right,  and  did  it 
boldly  and  fearlessly.  He  was  not  a  politician,  and 
did  not  think  about  how  he  was  to  get  re-elected. 
He  had  nothing  to  do  but  what  he  considered  his 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       243 

duty,  and  he  did  it  bravely.  I  said  to  Mr.  Webster 
something  about  a  public  dinner  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  7th  of  March,  and  he  wrote  to  me :  — 

"  If  any  thing  of  that  kind  is  proposed  to  me, — 
which  I  do  not  seek,  —  I  shall  certainly  take  no 
compliment  of  that  kind,  unless  Mr.  Eliot  is  in 
cluded.  Every  thing  is  due  to  him  that  is  to  any 
body.  He  has  been  faithful  and  true,  and  deserv 
ing  of  all  the  honor  that  can  be  given  him  in  that 
way." 

In  the  autumn  of  1850,  Mr.  Webster  was  at  the 
North,  as  usual,  spending  his  time  between  Marsh- 
field  and  New  Hampshire.  The  Democrats  of  New 
Hampshire,  who  had  always  before  treated  him 
with  a  good  deal  of  coldness  and  abuse,  were  very 
lavish  in  their  attentions  and  kindness.  They 
seemed  to  have  changed ;  there  was  a  returning 
warmth  and  sympathy  among  them,  and  he  re 
ceived  cordial  letters  from  a  good  many  of  them. 
He  received  one  from  Isaac  Hill,  with  whom  his 
relations  had  been  any  thing  but  friendly,  asking 
his  pardon,  and  assuring  him  of  his  respect  and 
good  wishes.  While  he  and  Mrs.  Webster  were 
spending  a  few  days  at  Franklin,  I  went  up  there 
to  visit  them ;  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  calls 
from  two  or  three  of  the  leading  men  of  New 
Hampshire  almost  daily.  They  would  drive  over 
from  Concord  and  have  a  pleasant  chat ;  and  these 
visits  were  very  grateful  to  Mr.  Webster.  I  had 
returned  to  Boston,  and  been  at  home  only  two  or 
three  days,  when,  on  a  Friday  night,  I  received  a 
telegraphic  despatch  from  Mr.  Webster,  saying :  "  If 


244  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

possible,  you  will  oblige  me  very  much  by  taking 
the  early  train  to-morrow  morning  and  coming  up 
here."  I  did  not  know  why  the  summons  came, 
but  supposed  he  might  wish  some  company  over 
Sunday ;  and  I  went,  although  'I  had  so  recently 
visited  him.  I  made  my  arrangements,  and  left  in 
the  early  train.  Nothing  particular  happened  on 
the  way  up,  till  the  train  stopped  at  Manchester. 
There  I  saw  quite  a  number  of  gentlemen  get  into 
the  car  in  which  I  was,  —  men  whom  I  knew  by 
sight,  and  only  by  sight.  There  was  one  tall,  strik 
ing  looking  man,  whom  I  knew  as  Squire , 

the  father-in-law  of  Isaac  Hill ;  and  also  his  son 
and  Senator  Norris.  The  train  went  on  and 
stopped  at  Concord,  and  many  others  got  in; 
among  them  General  Pierce.  There  were  in  the 
car  General  Low,  Judge  Hubbell,  and  Isaac  Hill, 
and  twenty-five  more  of  the  leading  men  of  the 
State.  I  did  not  know  what  was  going  on ;  but 
finally  General  Low  came  and  sat  on  the  seat 
with  me. 

"  Going  up  to  Franklin,  I  suppose,"  said  he. 
"  I  guess  we  shall  have  a  pretty  good  time." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  are  going  up  to  dine  with  Mr.  Webster," 
he  replied. 

It  was  a  very  rainy  day,  but  the  rain  was  warm 
and  pleasant ;  and  as  the  railroad  track  ran  right 
by  Mr.  Webster's  place,  a  station  was  established 
there,  called  the  "  Webster  Station."  There  we 
stopped,  and  all  jumped  out  and  went  into  the 
house.  I  carried  up  the  news  of  the  nomination 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       245 

of  William  Appleton  for  Congress  from  the  Fifth 
District. 

Mr.  Webster  seemed  perfectly  happy,  and,  in 
deed,  he  said  to  me :  — 

"  How  happy  I  am  here  !  This  is  where  I  breathe 
my  native  air.  I  arn  in  better  health  here.  There 
is  something  in  the  air  that  invigorates  me ;  dis 
ease  doesn't  seem  to  flourish  here." 

He  was  most  cordial  and  delightful  to  his  guests. 
They  were  all  highly  pleased.  He  went  through 
the  various  rooms,  making  everybody  feel  at  home, 
and  chatting  with  each  guest  by  turns.  The  din 
ner-hour  was  announced.  Mr.  Webster  said  to 
me :  — 

"  You  take  General  Pierce  and  Senator  Norris 
up  to  that  end  of  the  table  [there  were  fifty  or 
sixty  people]  ;  go  up  there  and  seat  yourself  and 
them." 

Previous  to  that,  General  Pierce  had  come  to  me, 
Mr.  Webster  having  made  us  mutually  acquainted, 
full  of  enthusiasm  about  Mr.  Webster ;  and,  taking 
me  aside,  said  :  — 

"  I  am  going  to  write  a  toast." 

He  took  a  pen  and  dashed  off  a  very  compli 
mentary  and  enthusiastic  toast,  and  gave  it  to  me 
to  show  to  Mr.  Webster.  I  went  down  into  the 
kitchen,  where  Mr.  Webster  was  supervising  the 
arrangements  for  dinner. 

"  General  Pierce  has  written  a  toast  to  call  you 
out,"  I  said. 

"  Oh !  "  replied  he,  "  have  nothing  of  that  kind. 
I  have  invited  my  old  friends  and  neighbors,  just 


246  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

to  pay  my  respects  to  them  and  receive  their  kind 
wishes.  It  would  not  be  in  good  taste  to  make 
labored  speeches." 

I  returned  to  General  Pierce,  and  told  him  that 
Mr.  Webster  preferred  to  have  nothing  of  the  kind. 

"  He  has  got  to  make  a  speech,"  replied  the  gen 
eral.  "  There  will  be  two  speeches  made  to-day, 
—  one  I  will  make,  and  one  he  must  make." 

I  went  back  and  told  Mr.  Webster  what  Gen 
eral  Pierce's  determination  was. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  tell  him  to  come  on. 
If  that  is  the  decision,  I  am  prepared  to  abide 
by  it." 

I  returned  again,  and  told  this  to  General  Pierce. 
Then  we  went  into  the  library  and  called  out 
Squire ,  to  whom  General  Pierce  said :  - 

"  You  are  the  head  of  the  Democracy  in  New 
Hampshire :  physically  you  are  a  head  taller,  and 
democratically  you  are  three  heads  taller,  than  any 
man  in  the  State.  We  want  to  corner  Mr.  Web 
ster  with  a  sentiment.  I  have  prepared  one,  and 
I  want  you  to  propose  it.  It  will  come  with  grace 
and  propriety  from  you." 

The  squire  read  it,  and  replied :  — 

"  I  approve  of  it  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Well,"  said  Pierce,  "  when  the  dinner  is  over, 
rise  and  propose  that." 

"I  will  do  so,"  replied  he,  "with  the  greatest 
pleasure." 

I  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  there  were  Mr. 
Green,  Dr.  Wood,  and  two  or  three  clergymen  near. 
Mr.  Webster  called  upon  a  venerable  clergyman 


ME.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       247 

to  ask  a  blessing,  and  he  made  a  very  impressive 
and  appropriate  prayer.  The  dinner  was  very 
informal.  It  was  a  plain,  nicely-cooked,  country 
dinner.  At  my  end  of  the  table  there  was  a  leg 
of  roast  mutton,  and  at  the  other  end  a  piece  of 
roast  beef.  When  the  roast  meats  were  removed, 
there  was  a  course  of  poultry.  Some  of  it  had 
been  brought  on  and  removed ;  but  there  were 
still  some  roast  chickens  to  come,  when  old  Squire 
— ,  thinking  the  dinner  was  over,  got  up,  and 
put  on  his  spectacles.  Pierce  whispered  to  me : 

"  He  thinks  the  dinner  is  over,  and  he  is  going 
to  give  his  toast.  Let's  see  what  Mr.  Webster 
will  do/' 

So  the  squire  read  his  toast,  and  there  was  a 
great  hurrah,  with  three  cheers  for  Mr.  Webster. 
General  Pierce  was  much  amused,  and  was  very 
curious  to  see  how  Mr.  Webster  would  get  over 
the  matter.  He  rose,  wearing  his  peculiar  air  of 
dignity  and  simplicity  which  made  you  feel  a  sort 
of  awe  and  reverence.  He  bowed,  and  with  con 
siderable  emotion  thanked  his  venerable  friend  for 
the  kind  sentiment  he  had  pronounced,  and  his 
friends  around  the  table  for  the  warm  response 
they  had  given  to  the  sentiment.  Then  he  stopped, 
with  one  of  his  peculiar  expressions,  and  added  : 

"  I  believe  that  John  Taylor  has  some  nice  roast 
chickens  that  he  proposes  to  let  us  try  ;  and  after 
he  has  done  so,  I  will  endeavor  to  respond  to  the 
sentiment." 

He  sat  down  amid  some  laughter,  but  the  squire 
was  not  at  all  embarrassed.  The  chickens  were 


248  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

brought  on ;  and  when  the  dinner  was  over,  Mr 
Webster  rose  and  made  a  speech,  —  such  a  speech 
as  I  never  heard  before  nor  since.  It  was  an  ad 
dress  that  ought  to  be  preserved  in  its  fulness.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  touching  and  beautiful  ever 
made,  even  by  him.  The  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  made  were  very  peculiar.  It  was  at 
the  close  of  an  extraordinary  career.  Up  in  that 
little  hamlet  which  he  had  left  some  half  a  cent 
ury  before,  penniless,  unknown  to  fame  and  to  the 
world,  without  friends  or  patronage,  he  was  now 
closing  his  illustrious  career,  receiving  the  benedic 
tions  of  men  who  had  opposed  him  throughout  his 
political  life  from  what  they  deemed  true  principles. 
They  seemed  to  have  come  almost  to  admit  the 
wrong  they  had  done  him.  He  had  not  changed ; 
they  had.  He  referred  to  that  fact  in  his  speech. 
He  said  that  in  some  respects  this  was  the  best,  and 
in  others  the  saddest,  day  of  his  life.  As  life  ad 
vanced,  and  as  he  approached  the  end  of  his  term 
on  earth,  —  which  he  felt  was  not  very  far  distant, 
—  there  was  something  peculiarly  dear  to  him  in 
the  scenes  of  his  early  life.  He  said  that  every 
blade  of  grass  that  grew  about  that  spot  seemed 
to  have  an  interest  for  him.  There  was  no  spot 
on  earth  he  loved  so  much.  Pointing  out  of  the 
window  to  the  graves  of  his  father  and  mother, 
which  were  marked  by  simple  white  stones,  he  said 
that  this  was  the  house  in  which  those  who  gave 
him  birth,  the  authors  of  his  existence,  had  lived 
and  died ;  from  that  spot  they  were  buried,  and 
their  dust  reposed  within  our  present  sight.  He 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       249 

said  that,  after  having  passed  through  a  stormy 
political  quarrel,  he  had  always  turned  his  steps  to 
that  loved  spot.  Every  year  he  visited  those  graves 
and  called  to  mind  the  remembrance  of  the  virtues 
of  those  who  once  inhabited  that  house ;  and  yet 
even  this  pious  pilgrimage  had  been  made  the  sub 
ject  of  political  abuse.  He  had  been  accused  of 
ambition,  of  selfishness ;  and  he  could  not  say  that 
he  did  not  feel  keenly  the  injustice  of  such  treat 
ment,  —  treatment  that  he  would  rather  have  re 
ceived  from  any  other  people  that  the  sun  shone 
upon  than  the  people  of  New  Hampshire. 

"  I  felt  sure,"  he  went  on,  "  that  my  motives,  as 
a  public  man,  which  had  been  misrepresented,  would 
at  last  have  justice  done  to  them,  because  my  mo 
tives  throughout  my  public  career  have  been  pure ; 
but  I  did  not  expect  to  live  to  see  it.  I  did  not 
expect  to  live  to  see  what  I  see  here  to-day, — 
this  acknowledgment  of  the  honesty  of  my  course. 
I  thought  it  would  come,  but  I  thought  it  would 
come  after  I  was  gone.  It  has  come  in  my  life 
time,  and  sooner  than  I  expected  ;  and  I  thank 
you,  gentlemen,  and  I  thank  my  God,  that  it 
has  come.  This  has  been  a  day  full  of  pleasant 


memories." 


He  proceeded  to  pronounce  a  eulogy  upon  the 
virtues  of  his  parents,  and  again  thanked  the 
company  for  their  visit  and  their  attention.  That 
great  man  standing  there,  with  but  two  persons 
about  him  who  were  not  politically  opposed  to 
him,  —  myself  and  a  kinsman  of  his,  Worcester 
Webster,  —  all  the  rest  being  Democrats,  ex- 


250  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

hibited  to  all  the  greatest  tenderness  and  gen 
tleness.  After  alluding,  in  the  concluding  por 
tion  of  his  speech,  to  the  Compromise  Measures, 
which  had  led  to  his  7th  of  March  speech, 
which  was  now  creating  a  good  deal  of  feeling 
in  the  country,  he  closed  by  offering  a  sentiment 
complimentary  to  Senator  Norris,  who  sat  on  my 
left,  and  who  was  a  plain,  sensible  man,  but  not  a 
great  speech-maker. 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  "  New  Hampshire  had 
true  men  in  the  councils  of  the  nation ;  and  he 
wished  to  bear  testimony  that  day,  in  the  presence 
of  some  of  his  constituents,  to  the  fidelity  and 
patriotism  of  one  of  their  Senators,  who  w^as  his 
guest  to-day.  Mr.  Norris  had  stood  in  no  little 
peril,  so  far  as  his  political  career  was  concerned ; 
but  he  had  acted  conscientiously,  and  from  a  high 
sense  of  duty  and  patriotism,  in  his  vote  in  favor 
of  the  Compromise  Measures ;  and  he  was  sure 
that,  whatever  the  result  might  be,  Mr.  Norris 
would  have  the  consciousness  of  having  done  his 
duty  to  his  country,  —  which  was  really  of  more 
value  to  an  upright  public  man  than  popular 
applause." 

"  Come,  Norris,"  said  General  Pierce,  "  get  up 
now  and  make  a  speech ;  you  will  never  have  such 
a  compliment  as  that  again." 

Mr.  Norris  arose,  and  made  an  appropriate  and 
pertinent  response. 

"  He  considered  it,"  he  said,  "  a  great  compli 
ment  to  be  thus  publicly  toasted  in  presence  of  the 
leading  men  of  his  State.  It  would  not  be  becom- 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       251 

ing  in  him  to  bandy  compliments  with  the  illustri 
ous  gentleman ;  and  he  would  only  say  that,  with 
out  his  strong  arm  and  influence,  those  measures 
of  healing  would  never  have  passed.  If  the  weight 
of  his  influence  had  been  cast  in  the  scale  of  oppo 
sition,  the  result  would  have  been  disastrous ;  and 
what  the  consequences  might  have  been,  he  shrank 
from  predicting." 

General  Pierce  then  rose  and  made  one  of  his 
fiery,  eloquent,  and  rather  extravagant  speeches. 
In  the  course  of  it  he  related  this  anecdote.  He 
said  that,  for  political  effect,  some  resolutions  were 
introduced  into  the  New  Hampshire  legislature 
by  the  Abolitionists,  denouncing  the  Compromise 
Measures.  He  had  a  brother  in  the  New  Hamp 
shire  legislature,  a  young  man,  and  like  himself  a 
Democrat.  It  was  pretty  well  understood  that 
New  Hampshire  was  going  to  repudiate  the  Com 
promise  Measures,  and  range  herself  on  the  side 
of  the  opposition :  some  of  the  leading  Democrats, 
indeed,  showing  a  disposition  in  that  direction. 
He  (Pierce)  was  trying  a  very  important  case  at 
Manchester,  where  the  court  was  sitting.  Late 
one  afternoon,  a  man  in  whom  he  had  confidence 
came  to  him  and  said  that  his  brother  was  going  to 
vote  for  the  abolition  resolutions. 

"  I  was  full  of  my  case,"  added  General  Pierce, 
"  examining  my  brief,  and  preparing  for  argument. 
But  I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment;  I  went  to  the 
railroad  station,  but  found  there  was  no  train  till 
the  next  morning.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  that 
night.  I  sent  for  the  superintendent  of  the  road, 


252  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

and  asked  him  to  carry  me  to  Concord  and  bring 
me  back  that  night.  He  said  there  would  be  some 
risk  in  running  a  train  not  set  down  in  the  time 
table  ;  but  I  told  him  that  I  must  see  my  brother 
before  I  slept.  He  finally  consented  to  send  me 
to  Concord,  where  I  arrived  safely.  I  found  my 
brother  in  bed.  By  this  time  I  was  a  good  deal 
excited.  I  said  to  him  :  — 

"  '  Ben,  they  tell  me  you  are  going  to  vote  for 
the  abolition  resolutions.  Now,  I  am  not  here,  of 
course,  to  dictate  to  you  ;  but  if  you  vote  for  those 
resolutions,  disloyal  as  they  are  to  the  United  States, 
to  the  Union  and  the  Constitution,  —  disloyal  to 
every  sentiment  for  which  your  father  fought,  — 
from  the  time  that  you  cast  a  vote  for  those  reso 
lutions  you  are  no  brother  of  mine :  I  will  never 
speak  to  you  again/  My  brother  looked  at  me 
in  some  astonishment,  and  then  said :  — 

"  ;  You  might  have  saved  yourself  all  this  trouble, 
for  I  had  no  more  idea  of  voting  for  those  resolu 
tions  than  of  knocking  you  down.' 

"  I  grasped  him  by  the  hand,  thanked  him,  and 
went  back  to  Manchester.  The  Compromise  Meas 
ures,  which  our  illustrious  host  has  perilled  his 
popularity  in  his  adopted  State  by  having  exerted 
his  influence  to  pass,  I  glory  in  ;  they  are  the  sal 
vation  of  the  Union  ;  and  I  thank  him  here  to-day. 
They  tell  me  that  Massachusetts  proposes  to  repu 
diate  him,  and  leave  him  out  of  the  councils  of  the 
nation.  Let  her  do  it !  Norris,  you  will  resign ; 
and  if  Mr.  Webster  will  come  up  here  we  will  give 
him  a  unanimous  election.  His  mother  State  will 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       253 

send  him  to  the  Senate,  and  feel  prouder  of  the 
act  than  of  any  thing  she  has  ever  done.  They  say 
we  are  a  small  State.  They  say  that  our  products 
are  granite  and  ice.  Be  it  so.  Of  one  thing,  how 
ever,  New  Hampshire  can  boast  over  her  sister 
States,  —  that  she  has  given  birth  to  the  greatest 
man,  far  the  greatest  man,  that  was  ever  born  on 
this  continent,  and,  I  verily  believe,  on  any  conti 
nent.  New  Hampshire  bore  Daniel  Webster,  and 
she  wears  that  honor  proudly.  No  State  can  divide 
it  with  her ;  it  is  hers,  and  it  is  worth  more  than 
all  the  territory  that  other  States  may  possess! " 

This  was  received  with  great  enthusiasm;  and 
after  some  further  speeches  the  company  dis 
persed.  General  Pierce  remained  at  Franklin  till 
Monday,  and  we  had  a  great  many  pleasant  chats 
together. 

On  the  very  day  that  General  Pierce  was  nomi 
nated  for  the  Presidency,  he  came  into  my  store, 
and  asked  me  whom  I  thought  the  Whigs  would 
nominate.  Their  Convention  was  to  be  held  a 
month  later. 

"  You  know  whom  we  want,"  I  said. 

"  Well,"  replied  he,  "  will  they  nominate  him  ?  " 

I  said  that  I  hoped,  but  feared,  and  considered 
the  result  doubtful. 

"  There  is  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  about  what  they 
ought  to  do." 

We  walked  out  together,  and  as  we  approached 
the  Tremont  House  I  remarked  :  — 

"  You  will  be  nominated  at  Baltimore  I  should 
judge." 


254:  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

This  was  the  third  day  that  his  friends  had  been 
talking  about  him  as  a  candidate.  He  spoke  as  if 
he  very  much  doubted  it ;  but  when  we  reached 
the  Tremont  House,  the  news  had  arrived  of  his 
nomination. 

"  Well, "  said  he,  "  all  I  can  say  is,  and  I  say 
it  in  sincerity,  if  the  people  of  the  United  States 
were  to  repudiate  caucuses,  conventions,  politi 
cians,  and  tricksters,  and  rise  in  the  glory  of  their 
strength  and  might,  without  waiting  for  any  con 
ventions  to  designate  a  candidate,  but  bent  on 
placing  in  the  Presidential  chair  the  first  citizen 
and  statesman,  the  first  patriot  and  man,  Daniel 
Webster,  —  it  would  do  for  republican  government 
more  than  any  event  which  has  taken  place  in  the 
\  history  of  the  world.  Those  are  my  sentiments, 
democracy  or  no  democracy." 

General  Pierce  felt  under  great  obligation  to  Mr. 
Webster ;  he  was  true  to  his  memory ;  he  was  true 
to  the  bond  of  personal  friendship  which  existed 
between  them.  Notwithstanding  the  objections 
of  some  of  his  Democratic  friends,  General  Pierce 
showed  a  real  constancy  and  devotion  in  his  re 
gard  for  Mr.  Webster.  In  the  general's  speech  at 
Franklin,  he  referred  to  their  personal  acquaint 
ance,  and  particularly  to  this  incident.  He  was 
known  to  be  pretty  intimate  at  Mr.  Webster's 
house  in  Washington.  Isaac  Hill  was  Pierce's  col 
league  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States;  and 
rather  blamed  him  once  or  twice  for  his  intimacy 
with  Webster.  This  was  when  party  spirit  ran 
very  high.  One  day  he  received  a  note  from  Hill, 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES.   255 

in  which  it  was  hinted  that  he  (Pierce)  was  rather 
too  intimate  at  Webster's  house ;  and  that  he  had 
better  not  go  there  quite  so  much.  The  note  was 
answered  pretty  promptly,  in  this  way :  — 

"  So  long  as  I  feel  that  the  friendship  and  inti 
macy  of  Daniel  Webster  are  more  honor  to  me 
than  a  seat  in  the  United  States  Senate,  as  I  do  feel 
it,  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  be  intimidated  by  any 
threat  like  the  one  in  your  own  note.  You  can 
take  your  own  course ;  I  shall  take  mine." 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  of  numerous  conversa 
tions  which  he  had  with  Louis  Philippe  when  in 
Europe,  and  among  others  one  that  occurred  when 
he  was  presented  by  Mr.  Cass.  He  did  not  stay 
long  in  Paris  at  this  time,  his  family,  Mrs.  Paige, 
and  Mrs.  Appleton  being  with  him.  The  etiquette 
of  the  court,  as  he  was  told  by  Mr.  Cass,  made  it 
necessary  to  dress  in  a  sort  of  military  costume 
when  he  was  presented.  He  said  that  General 
Cass  further  told  him  that  the  etiquette  of  the 
court  was  that,  at  the  presentation,  he  must  never 
ask  questions,  only  answer  them;  and  that  he 
must  introduce  no  conversation  except  such  as 
was  elicited  by  questions  put  to  him.  Mr.  Web 
ster  appropriately  arrayed  himself,  and  went  with 
General  Cass.  He  was  ushered  into  a  number  of 
rooms,  until  he  came  to  a  very  large  but  very 
plain  and  comfortable-looking  drawing-room,  in 
which  were  seated  quite  a  number  of  ladies,  in 
cluding  the  queen  and  her  daughters,  —  all  busy, 
some  writing,  and  some  at  needle-work.  They 
ah1  seemed  to  be  on  the  most  familiar  footing 


256          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

with  General  Cass.  The  queen  inquired  after  the 
health  of  his  family,  speaking  in  English.  The 
young  ladies  engaged  in  the  conversation,  and  the 
talk  was  very  much  such  an  one  as  would  take 
place  in  a  well-bred  family  in  America.  But  there 
was  no  presentation  !  In  some  eight  or  ten  minutes 
a  side  door  opened,  and  the  king  entered. 

"  He  was  about  your  size,"  said  Mr.  Webster, 
speaking  to  me,  "  and  wore  a  frock  coat,  a  black 
cravat  without  a  stiff ener,  tied  in  a  hard  knot ;  his 
collar  was  negligently  turned  down,  and  limber ; 
his  hair  was  white,  as  indicated  by  the  locks 
which  came  down  from  under  the  black  wig  that 
he  wore.  There  were  no  ornaments  about  his 
person,  except  that  there  hung  down  at  his  right 
pocket  a  bunch  of  seals,  attached  to  his  watch, 
almost  as  big  as  a  calf's  head.  He  knew  I  was 
coming,  and  he  approached  me  with  a  hurried  step, 
while  General  Cass  presented  me.  The  king  was 
very  informal  and  very  rapid  in  his  movements. 
He  began  to  ask  me  a  succession  of  rapid  questions 
which  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  answer,  and  re 
peated  himself  somewhat,  speaking  in  English  all 
the  while.  He  said  :  — 

66 '  I  knew  that  you  had  arrived  in  Europe,  Mr. 
Webster,  and  I  had  been  looking  for  you,  and  be 
gan  to  fear  that  you  would  not  honor  my  capital 
with  a  visit.  It  would  have  been  a  source  of  great 
mortification  to  me  if  you  had  not.  I  know  all 
about  you,  sir;  and  I  am  delighted  to  welcome 
you  to  Paris.  I  have  your  speeches  in  my  library, 
and  often  consult  them  ;  on  some  subjects  they  are 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS   CONTEMPORARIES        257 

models,  particularly  those  relating  to  Finance.  I 
study  them  more  than  any  other  speeches.  I  know 
all  about  your  public  career.  I  wish  to  say  many 
things  to  you,  and  hope  I  shall  have  an  opportunity 
before  you  leave  Paris/ 

"  The  next  day  the  ladies  were  presented  at 
court,  and  on  the  third  day  we  were  all  invited 
to  dine  with  the  king  and  queen ;  and  there  I 
found  every  thing  just  as  one  would  desire  in  a 
well-regulated,  highly  intellectual,  and  cultivated 
American  family." 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  great  many  interviews  with 
the  king,  who  sent  for  him  a  number  of  times. 
The  king  told  him  that  he  saw  General  Washington 
return  the  sword  of  the  Revolution  to  the  Congress 
at  Annapolis.  He  said :  — 

"  I  saw  him,  as  I  sat  upon  one  of  the  benches,  — 
that  great  and  good  man,  who  had  achieved  the 
liberties  of  his  country,  and  who  had  tasted  su 
preme  power,  —  return  his  sword,  in  a  speech 
which,  for  sublimity  and  grandeur,  has  never  been 
surpassed.  I  can  see  him  now,  so  deeply  is  the 
scene  impressed  upon  my  memory,  and  could, 
were  I  master  of  the  pencil,  delineate  his  personal 
appearance,  even  to  the  very  turn  of  his  shoe- 
buckle.  I  could  almost  give  every  hair  of  his 
head  faithfully,  so  deeply  was  the  scene  impressed 
upon  me." 

The  king  spoke  of  Washington  as  the  most  ex 
traordinary  man  who  had  ever  lived.  Mr.  Webster 
added :  — 

"  When  I  heard,  in  such  a  presence  and  by  such 

17 


258  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

a  person,  —  then  the  most  intelligent,  most  power 
ful,  and  best-informed  sovereign  in  Europe,  —  so 
high  a  eulogy  and  so  noble  a  recognition  of  the 
merits  of  the  father  of  my  country,  it  made  me 
prouder  of  my  country  than  any  thing  that  had 
been  said  or  done  during  my  absence  from  it." 

Mr.  Webster  heard  Lord  Lynd hurst  make  a 
speech  in  the  House  of  Lords,  which  was  a  thing 
of  rare  occurrence,  as  he  seldom  spoke  after  re 
tiring  from  the  chancellorship,  except  when  the 
House  was  divided  upon  some  important  occa 
sion.  Mr.  Webster  went  to  the  House  with  Lord 
Brougham,  who  said  he  had  not  seen  it  so  full  for 
three  years.  The  crowd  was  brought  out  by  the 
fame  of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  who  was  the  leading 
debater  on  the  Tory  side. 

"The  question,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "I  hardly 
remember.  It  was  a  matter  in  which  I  felt  no 
interest;  but  I  felt  great  interest  in  the  debate. 
I  took  particular  notice  of  Lord  Lyndhurst.  He 
wore  a  gray  frock-coat ;  and,  after  he  rose  to  ad 
dress  the  Peers,  he  spoke  for  forty-five  or  fifty 
minutes,  moving  scarcely  more  than  a  statue.  He 
only  moved  his  right  hand  to  his  left  breast  occa 
sionally,  and  so  lightly  and  easily  that  the  wrinkle 
in  the  lap  of  his  coat  was  hardly  disturbed." 

I  asked  Mr.  Webster  how  Lyndhurst  impressed 
him. 

"  His  style,"  was  the  reply,  "was  conversational, 
argumentative,  logical,  without  any  attempt  at 
brilliancy  or  rhetoric.  One  great  merit  of  his 
speech  was,  that,  in  discussing  the  different  points, 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND  HIS   CONTEMPORARIES.       259 

he  seemed  always  to  stop  when  he  got  through. 
He  did  not  use  a  superfluous  word  or  argument. 

"  Lord  Brougham  told  me,"  added  Mr.  Webster, 
speaking  of  the  debaters  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
"  that  my  countryman,  Lord  Lyndhurst,1  was,  he 
thought,  the  ablest  debater  in  the  House  of  Lords ; 
and  I  rather  think  that  would  have  been  the  opin 
ion  of  a  majority  of  the  ablest  men  of  England." 

Mr.  Webster  said  he  was  very  much  disappointed 
in  Lord  Brougham,  who  was  one  of  the  men  whom 
he  had  felt  an  intense  interest  and  curiosity  to  see ; 
because  he  was  a  famous  lawyer,  and  had  occupied 
a  very  important  place  for  many  years,  both  in  the 
legal  profession  of  England  and  in  the  Parliament 
ary  discussions.  Mr.  Webster  had  some  corre 
spondence  with  him,  and  felt  a  friendship  for 
him.  He  said,  however,  that  Brougham's  personal 
appearance  and  manners  were  not  equal  to  his 
reputation.  He  was  rather  a  trifler  in  manner,  — 
something  of  a  coxcomb,  —  and  dressed  peculiarly. 
He  seemed,  from  his  general  tone,  to  be  vain. 
He  was  very  kind  to  Mr.  Webster,  and  offered  him 
every  facility  for  seeing  every  thing  and  every 
body.  Among  other  attentions,  he  was  invited  to 
dine  with  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  at  the  London 
Tavern,  on  white  bait.  Mr.  Webster  had  so  many 
engagements  that  it  was  rather  inconvenient  for 
him  to  accept  this  courtesy.  He  was  about  to  de 
cline,  and  expressed  his  intention  of  doing  so  to 
Lord  Brougham.  Brougham  replied  :  — 

1  John  Singleton  Copley  (Lord  Lyndhurst),  son  of  the  painter  of  that 
name,  was  born  in  Boston,  1772. 


260  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  I  beg  that  you  won't  decline  ;  the  dinner  was 
made  chiefly  for  you.  I  wish  you  would  go." 

Mr.  Webster  accepted  and  went  to  the  dinner, 
which  was  rather  an  agreeable  one. 

Lord  Brougham  took  him  to  the  courts,  and  of 
course  he  was  much  impressed  with  the  relations 
between  the  ex-Chancellor  and  the  judges.  When 
Mr.  Webster  went  into  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
the  judges  insisted  upon  his  sitting  on  the  bench 
beside  them.  One  night,  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
Lord  Brougham  insisted  upon  his  taking  one  of  the 
niches  that  were  reserved  for  very  distinguished 
persons,  —  such  as  the  royal  family,  or  noblemen 
of  another  country.  But  Mr.  Webster  asked  to  be 
excused,  as  he  said  he  should  prefer  to  have  an 
unobtrusive  place  and  take  a  quiet  view  of  the 
House  and  its  proceedings.  He  was  much  struck 
with  the  novelty  of  the  mode  of  doing  business ; 
and,  among  other  things,  noticed  that  there  was  a 
constant  appeal  to  "  the  noble  and  learned  lord  " 
(Brougham),  to  know  what  the  law  was  on  the 
subject  in  debate.  Brougham  would  state  the  law, 
and  that  seemed  to  settle  the  point  without  further 
discussion.  On  the  evening  that  he  was  introduced, 
he  had  been  dining  with  Lord  Brougham,  who  was 
in  especial  good  humor,  and  disposed  to  be  facetious. 
He  had  been  appealed  to  several  times  for  his  opin 
ion  on  legal  points,  when  he  rose  and  said :  — 

"  If  it  should  have  happened  that  a  stranger  to 
our  mode  of  proceeding  —  a  member,  for  instance, 
of  a  distinguished  legislative  body  from  another 
country  —  should  be  here  to-night;  if  any  such 


MR.  WEBSTER  AND   HIS  CONTEMPORARIES.       261 

person  were  within  the  sound  of  my  voice,  from 
what  has  taken  place  here  to-night  he  might 
imagine  that  I  was  the  most  important  personage 
in  your  lordships'  House.  I  should  say  to  that 
person,  if  he*  should  draw  any  inference  like  this, 
that  he  would  be  very  wide  of  the  mark ;  for  there 
is  no  person  who  has  less  influence  than  he  who  is 
now  addressing  you." 

The  ardent  admirers  of  Kossuth  complained  of 
Mr.  "Webster,  that  his  speech  at  the  Kossuth  dinner 
in  Washington  was  not  sufficiently  enthusiastic. 
No  language,  probably,  which  Mr.  Webster  could 
have  used,  consistent  with  his  taste  and  prudence, 
would  have  satisfied  the  crowd,  or  risen  to  the 
boiling-point  of  popular  enthusiasm  at  that  time. 
He  understood  the  character  of  Kossuth  then  as 
perfectly  as  the  intelligent  public  now  know  it. 
From  the  few  intimations  of  his  opinion  left  on 
record,  it  is  evident  that  Mr.  Webster  regarded 
Kossuth  as  a  true  patriot,  a  devoted  advocate  of 
liberty,  and  a  brilliant  orator;  but  too  impulsive 
in  his  feelings,  too  poetic  in  his  temperament,  and 
too  visionary  in  his  proposed  measures,  to  be  a  safe 
leader  of  reform  or  a  judicious  statesman.  Still, 
he  admired  the  man,  and  wished  success  to  his 
cause.  Writing  to  Mr.  Blatchford,  in  January, 
1852,  he  alludes  to  his  dinner  speech  in  these 
terms :  — 

"  I  wish  to  act  a  conservative  part  always  ;  but 
then,  two  things  I  had  to  think  of  :  first,  to  say 
nothing  inconsistent  with  what  I  have  said  so  often 
about  the  principles  of  the  Holy  Alliance ;  secondly, 


262  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

to  take  care  that  our  political  opponents  shall  have 
no  well-founded  charge  against  us  for  coolness  in 
the  cause  of  liberty.  Then  again,  I  wished  to  give 
as  little  offence  as  possible  to  governments  with 
whom  we  are  at  peace." 

These  certainly  are  very  proper  considerations 
to  influence  a  statesman  of  "large,  roundabout 
common  sense,"  looking  before  and  after,  and 
weighing  the  effect  of  his  words,  both  upon  the 
American  people  and  foreign  nations.  The  en 
thusiastic  patrons  of  the  exiled  Magyar  wished 
Mr.  Webster  to  use  such  language  as  would  be 
appropriate  to  a  village  caucus,  where  the  ap 
proaching  town  election  might  be  affected  by  the 
public  favor  shown  to  this  European  reformer. 
The  result  has  proved  where  true  wisdom  lay,  and 
that  the  language  of  Mr.  Webster  was  all  that  a 
conscientious  regard  for  duty  required. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

HOME    LIFE:    MARSHFIELD    AND    FRANKLIN. 

To  every  one  who  was  at  all  familiar  with  Mr. 
Webster's  habits  and  feelings,  it  was  evident  that 
his  home,  and  every  thing  connected  with  it,  were 
peculiarly  dear  to  him.  After  absorbing  labors  in 
the  capitol  or  in  the  court-room,  he  always  turned 
his  face  gratefully  toward  Marshfield.  It  was 
there  that  he  sought  leisure  to  meditate  upon  his 
triumphs  ;  it  was  thither  that  he  turned  for  conso 
lation,  when  harassed  and  overcome  by  disappoint 
ment.  No  doubt,  he  enjoyed  the  excitements  of 
his  profession  and  of  public  life  :  to  gain  a  forensic 
victory  was  certainly  a  delight  to  him ;  to  mingle 
in  the  fray  of  party  warfare,  to  be  the  champion 
of  principles  he  had  embraced  against  foemen  wor 
thy  of  his  steel,  were  sensations  not  disagreeable 
to  him.  But  he  always  seemed  most  happy  and 
most  contented  at  home  in  Marshfield,  surrounded 
by  a  family  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  devoted, 
within  reach  of  the  scenes  of  favorite  sports  and 
pastimes,  and  absorbed  by  the  many  quiet  interests 
of  the  homestead  and  the  farm.  He  never  lost  the 
fondness  for  agriculture  which  grew  in  his  early 
childhood,  and  which  he  inherited  from  his  an 
cestry  of  New  Hampshire  yeomen.  When  most 


264  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

deeply  engaged  in  duties  of  State  at  Washington, 
he  always  snatched  time  to  keep  watch  of  his 
farms,  and  to  send  John  Taylor  and  Porter  Wright 
instructions,  the  most  minute  and  careful,  concern 
ing  the  planting  of  his  crops,  and  the  raising,  buy 
ing,  and  selling  of  his  horses,  cattle,  and  poultry. 
His  fondness  for  the  home  of  his  childhood  at 
Franklin  has  already  been  remarked  ;  and  it  was 
one  of  the  happiest  circumstances  of  his  life,  that 
he  was  able,  so  long  as  he  lived,  to  retain  posses 
sion  of  the  fields  and  pastures  familiar  to  the  sports 
and  labors  of  his  early  years. 

Before  the  year  1825,  it  had  been  Mr.  Webster's 
custom,  for  several  years,  to  pass  a  part  of  each 
summer  at  Sandwich.  There,  in  company  with 
his  friend,  George  Blake,  he  indulged  his  taste  for 
shooting  and  fishing.  But  the  establishment  of  a 
large  glass  manufactory,  and  the  arrival  of  many 
operatives,  who,  on  their  holidays,  overspread  the 
country  with  guns  and  dogs,  had  thinned  out  the 
game  to  such  an  extent  that  the  neighborhood 
ceased  to  supply  good  sport.  Mr.  Webster  men 
tioned  this  to  his  friend,  Isaac  P.  Davis ;  who  there 
upon  recommended  him  to  apply  to  Captain  John 
Thomas  of  Marshfield,  whom  Mr.  Davis  knew  well, 
and  who,  he  was  confident,  would  gladly  entertain 
Mr.  Webster  at  his  house,  and  grant  him  the  free 
dom  of  his  marshes,  where  he  would  find  a  great 
abundance  of  sport. 

Mr.  Webster  resolved  to  act  upon  the  suggestion. 
He  took  his  wife  and  eldest  son  in  a  chaise  and  drove 
to  Marshfield. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FKANKLIN.       265 

As  they  passed  over  the  brow  of  Black  Mount, 
in  front  of  Captain  Thomas's  residence,  Mrs.  Web 
ster,  without  knowing  that  it  was  the  very  place 
they  were  to  visit,  called  her  husband's  attention 
to  the  beautiful  prospect  before  them,  and  bade 
him  stop  the  horse  to  gaze  at  the  scenery;  re 
marking  that,  if  she  ever  were  to  have  a  retreat 
in  the  country,  she  should  prefer  the  one  before 
her  to  any  she  had  ever  seen.  They  drove  up  to 
the  house.  Captain  Thomas  received  the  party 
with  great  cordiality,  and  in  his  hearty  manner 
embraced  and  kissed  Mrs.  Webster.  He  shouted 
with  stentorian  voice  to  his  excellent  wife,  and 
then  opened  the  door  and  ushered  the  visitors  into 
his  cosey  old  house.  His  wife  and  sons  soon  made 
their  appearance,  and  were  introduced ;  and  in  a 
short  time  the  unexpected  guests  were  as  much  at 
home  as  they  ever  wrere  afterwards  during  their 
residence  at  Marshfield. 

It  was  this  strong  preference  of  his  wife  that 
first  suggested  to  Mr.  Webster  the  thought  of  pur 
chasing  the  place,  which  he  afterwards  did;  making 
large  additions  to  the  estate  and  to  the  dwelling- 
house. 

There  are  some  interesting  points  in  the  history 
of  Marshfield,  which  give  an  additional  charm  to 
its  delightful  scenery.  It  was  early  settled  by  the 
Pilgrims  and  their  followers.  It  was  the  residence 
of  Peregrine  White,  the  first  white  child  born  in 
New  England  ;  and  his  remains  are  buried  in  the 
old  Win  slow  grave-yard  on  the  premises  of  Mr, 
Webster. 


266  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTLK. 

The  family  of  Winslow,  so  distinguished  in  colo 
nial  days,  were  natives  of  this  place.  The  first 
Governor  of  that  name  married  the  mother  of 
Peregrine  White,  after  the  death  of  her  first  hus 
band.  The  Thomases  were  another  distinguished 
family,  and  with  the  Winslows  owned  nearly  all 
of  that  domain  which  is  now  known  as  South 
Marshfield. 

Many  anecdotes  of  the  various  members  of  these 
two  families  are  still  current  in  that  part  of  the 
country :  one  for  its  quaintness  is  worth  pre 


serving. 


On  the  death  of  Dr.  Winslow,  the  good  parson 
of  the  parish  preached  a  sort  of  funeral  oration. 
He  began  by  speaking  of  the  death  of  that  great 
and  good  man,  Governor  Winslow.  He  had  hoped 
at  his  decease  that  his  valiant  son,  General  Wins- 
low,  would  have  succeeded  to  all  his  father's  graces ; 
and  on  the  death  of  General  Winslow  he  had  prayed 
that  his  son  and  successor  might  be  no  worse  a  man 
than  his  father;  it  was,, he  said,  a  small  request, 
but  Heaven  had  not  seen  fit  to  grant  it ! 

Just  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Eevolution, 
Nathaniel  Ray  Thomas,  who  was  a  royalist,  had 
been  appointed  one  of  the  king's  "  Mandamus 
Counsellors,"  a  sort  of  appointment  very  offensive 
at  the  time  to  all  the  Whigs.  General  Gage  was 
then  with  his  troops  in  Boston.  The  times  were 
so  troubled,  and  the  people  so  threatening,  that  it 
was  thought  necessary  to  despatch  a  party  of  troops 
for  Mr.  Thomas's  protection.  Accordingly,  a  hun 
dred  picked  men  from  the  British  army  were  sent 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   267 

down  and  stationed  at  his  house,  to  guard  the 
property  and  to  keep  the  neighbors  in  awe. 

On  the  day  after  the  battle  of  Lexington,  how 
ever,  a  despatch  was  sent  from  headquarters  at 
Boston  announcing  the  event,  and  ordering  Cap 
tain  Balfour,  who  commanded  the  detachment,  to 
return  at  once  to  Boston.  This  news,  communi 
cated  to  the  British  officer,  was  in  advance  of  any 
received  by  the  Whigs,  who  were  hovering  around 
the  residence  and  along  the  roads,  not  wishing  to 
be  the  first  to  attack,  but  desiring  good  cause  of 
open  resistance.  Captain  Balfour  was  able  to  make 
good  his  retreat  to  Boston  before  those  who  were 
watching  his  movements  knew  their  cause ;  other 
wise,  it  is  not  unlikely  that  he  and  his  men  would 
never  have  lived  to  take  part  in  the  battle  of 
Bunker  Hill  where  they  fought,  and  where  he  fell, 
pierced  by  seven  bullets,  though  he  survived  his 
wounds. 

As  soon  as  the  force  was  withdrawn,  and  the 
knowledge  of  what  had  taken  place  at  Lexington 
had  transpired,  Mr.  Thomas  knew  that  his  resi 
dence  was  no  longer  safe ;  and,  fearing  to  travel 
by  the  road,  he  mounted  a  swift  horse,  and  took 
to  the  beaches,  swimming  the  various  rivers  that 
divided  them,  and  arrived  safely  at  Hingham. 
There  he  chartered  a  small  vessel,  and  made  his 
way  to  Boston ;  thus  suddenly  and  for  ever  taking 
leave  of  his  home  and  estate  at  Marshfield. 

His  family  soon  followed,  with  one  exception ;  and 
on  the  evacuation  of  Boston  by  General  Gage,  they 
repaired  to  Nova  Scotia,  where  their  descendants 
now  remain. 


268  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

The  one  exception  to  this  exodus  was  in  the 
person  of  the  youngest  son,  John  Thomas,  who 
was  a  Whig,  or  rebel,  and  stoutly  refused  to  leave, 
or  to  join  the  royal  cause.  The  property  was  con 
fiscated  by  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts. 
and  thus  passed  from  the  family.  After  the  Kevo- 
lution,  however,  Mr.,  then  Captain,  John  Thomas, 
applied  to  the  Legislature  for  a  restitution  to  him 
of  some  part  of  the  estate ;  and  by  the  friendly 
assistance  of  Perez  Morton,  afterward  Attorney- 
General,  obtained  his  mother's  dowry,  —  one  third 
of  the  real  estate. 

Captain  Thomas,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Webster's 
first  acquaintance  with  him,  was  in  embarrassed 
circumstances,  and  his  estate  was  mortgaged.  He 
was  already  advanced  in  years,  and  most  of  his 
children  had  received  their  portion,  and  left  the 
old  homestead.  Two  sons  only  remained  with  him. 
They  were  quite  willing  that  the  farm  should  be 
sold.  Mr.  Webster  purchased  it  on  condition  that 
Captain  Thomas  and  his  wife  should  remain  there 
as  long  as  they  lived.  Accordingly,  the  kind,  hos 
pitable  old  gentleman  occupied  his  favorite  room 
in  the  house  till  the  time  of  his  death,  which  took 
place  some  years  after,  at  an  advanced  age. 

Mr.  Webster  became  interested  in  the  family, 
and  undertook  to  provide  for  the  remaining  sons. 
The  elder  of  the  two  engaged  in  business  at 
Hingham ;  and  the  younger  went  into  the  count 
ing-house  of  Stephen  White,  of  Salem.  He  was 
afterwards  sent  into  the  Western  States,  by  Mr. 
Webster,  as  a  land  agent,  and  died  while  visiting 
Washington  to  see  his  employer. 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   269 

The  intimacy  and  friendship  between  Captain 
Thomas  and  Mr.  Webster  were  peculiar.  The 
captain,  though  much  Mr.  Webster's  senior,  soon 
learned  to  look  up  to  him  with  respect  and  admi 
ration  ;  he  made  Mr.  Webster  his  Magnus  Apollo, 
and  at  the  same  time  entertained  for  him  a  sort 
of  paternal  affection.  He  deferred  to  Mr.  Webster 
in  all  matters,  excepting  in  some  practical  rules 
of  farming,  the  nicer  points  of  sporting,  and  the 
habits  of  birds,  wild  fowl,  and  fish,  —  in  all  which 
matters  the  captain  was  Mr.  Webster's  instructor. 
Their  association,  always  pleasant,  grew  into  mu 
tual  affection ;  and  Captain  Thomas,  who,  at  Mr. 
Webster's  suggestion,  subscribed  for  the  semi- 
weekly  "  Columbian  Sentinel,"  watched,  with  the 
most  intense  interest,  Mr.  Webster's  course  in  the 
Senate,  as  reported  in  that  journal. 

In  1829-30,  the  good  captain  read  Hayne's 
first  speech.  He  waited,  in  confidence,  for  a  tri 
umphant  reply.  It  came,  and  he  was  entirely  sat 
isfied.  The  faithful  "  Sentinel,"  however,  soon 
brought  him  Hayne's  second  speech.  He  read 
it  with  extreme  and  painful  interest. 

It  excited  in  him  the  gravest  apprehensions  for 
the  idol  of  his  old  age.  He  was  overwhelmed  with 
grief.  His  hero,  his  great  man,  his  beloved,  al 
most  worshipped  friend,  was  overthrown  in  debate 
by  his  Southern  antagonist.  The  kind  old  gentle 
man's  pride  was  humbled;  he  was  in  despair,  —  his 
heart  almost  broken.  Casting  away  the  paper,  he 
rose  and  retired  slowly  to  his  room,  directing  some 
one  to  come  and  take  his  boots  away,  as  he  should 


270          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

never  want  them  again.  His  family  tried  in  vain 
to  console  him.  He  refused  to  be  comforted.  Like 
one  of  old,  he  was  ready  to  exclaim  :  "  Ye  have 
taken  away  my  gods,  and  what  have  I  more  ?  " 

For  three  days  he  kept  his  bed,  mourning  over 
the  fall  of  his  friend,  and  refusing  all  consolation. 
His  eldest  son  tried  to  persuade  him  that  Mr.  Web 
ster  was  able  to  defend  the  cause  of  New  England, 
and  would  yet  have  his  triumph.  His  only  reply 
was :  "  It  can't  be  answered,  Henry,  it  can't  be 
answered." 

The  fatal  semi-weekly  "  Sentinel  "  came  again 
in  due  course.  It  was  evening.  The  family  were 
gathered  around  the  fire  in  sad  apprehension  :  the 
old  man's  mind  seemed  almost  unhinged,  —  they 
even  feared  for  his  life.  The  captain  still  kept  his 
bed,  and  appeared  to  have  determined  to  hold  to 
his  vow  never  to  rise  from  it.  All  their  efforts  to 
rouse  him  had,  thus  far,  proved  ineffectual.  On 
opening  the  paper,  it  was  found  to  contain  Mr. 
Webster's  second  reply  to  Colonel  Hayne.  The 
family  at  once  resolved  that  Henry  should  assume 
the  task  of  carrying  it  to  his  father,  and  try  the 
effect  of  this  medicine  to  "  minister  to  a  mind  dis 
eased."  Henry  entered  his  father's  room  with  the 
paper  and  a  candle.  The  old  man  groaned,  and 
asked  what  he  wanted.  Henry  replied  :  — 

"  Father,  I  have  brought  you  the  '  Sentinel ; '  I 
thought  you  might  like  to  look  at  it." 

"  No,  Henry,  I  don't  want  to  see  it." 

"  It  contains  a  second  speech  of  Mr.  Webster,  in 
reply  to  Colonel  Hayne." 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   271 

"  Oh,  Henry !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  it  is 
of  no  use ;  it  can't  be  answered  ;  I  don't  want  to 
see  it." 

Henry  lingered,  and  seemed  greatly  distressed  at 
his  father's  refusal.  At  last,  Captain  Thomas  con 
sented  to  have  the  paper  and  candle  left,  and  said 
that  perhaps  he  would  look  at  it.  Henry  went 
downstairs,  and  reported  the  apparently  unsuccess 
ful  result  of  his  mission  ;  and  the  little  family  drew 
closely  around  their  winter  fire  more  gloomily  than 
before. 

Some  time  had  thus  elapsed,  when  they  were  all 
suddenly  startled  by  a  tremendous  shout  from  their 
father's  room.  They  all  rushed  upstairs  together 
to  see  what  had  happened.  The  captain  was  sit 
ting  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  with  the  paper  in  one 
hand  and  the  candle  in  the  other.  As  Henry  en 
tered,  the  captain  roared  out :  — 

"  Bring  me  my  boots,  Henry  !  bring  me  my 
boots  !  " 

Captain  Thomas's  recovery  was  so  complete, 
that  he  never  again  suffered  a  relapse  of  that 
mental  complaint. 

Mr.  Webster,  in  a  speech  at  Rochester,  said : 

"  Why,  gentlemen,  I  live  on  the  sandy  seashore 
of  Marshfield,  and  get  along  as  well  as  I  can  1 
am  a  poor  farmer  upon  a  great  quantity  of  poor 
land ;  but  my  neighbors  and  I,  by  very  great 
care,  —  I  hardly  know  how,  —  contrive  to  live 
on." 

What  he  says  of  the  soil  of  Marshfield  is  literally 
true.  Where  it  is  neglected  and  not  enriched  by 


272  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER, 

the  frequent  application  of  manure,  it  soon  loses 
its  productive  power,  yielding  nothing  but  stunted 
trees  and  a  peculiar  light-colored  moss,  which 
crackles  beneath  the  feet  of  the  traveller  like 
dry  shavings,  and  is  just  about  as  nutritious  for 
sheep  and  cattle.  Mr.  Webster  did  not  select  this 
place  for  his  residence  because  it  yielded  the  best 
crops ;  but  because,  all  things  considered,  it  com 
bined  the  advantages  of  sea  and  land,  of  running 
streams  and  quiet  lakes,  and  presented  more  at 
tractive  scenery  than  could  be  found  elsewhere  in 
New  England.  It  abounded  in  game  of  all  descrip 
tions.  The  land  yielded  animals  and  birds ;  the 
ocean,  fishes.  His  tastes  were  therefore  gratified. 
Finding  a  thin  and  barren  soil  in  many  places,  de 
nuded  of  trees  by  the  axe,  he  studied  the  capabili 
ties  of  his  land,  and  sought  at  once  the  means  of 
enriching  it  and  clothing  it  with  trees. 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  passion  for  planting  trees,  as 
well  as  for  rearing  fine  animals.  He  often  said  to 
young  farmers,  "  Plant  trees,  adorn  your  grounds, 
live  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  shall  come  after 
you."  He  spoke  with  contempt,  almost  with  in 
dignation,  of  the  stupidity  and  selfishness  of  those 
who  refuse  to  plant  trees  because  they  may  not 
live  to  see  their  maturity  or  taste  their  fruit.  It 
was  his  practice  to  try  experiments  with  every 
variety  of  forest  trees,  shade  trees,  and  fruit  trees, 
from  different  States  and  countries.  Of  course, 
many  of  them  failed ;  but  a  larger  number  suc 
ceeded,  and  the  trees  "  still  live  "  to  bear  witness 
to  his  wisdom  and  benevolence. 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   273 

Finding  the  soil  of  his  farm  naturally  poor,  he 
proceeded  to  invent  ways  and  means  of  enriching 
it.  He  found  the  law  of  "  compensation/'  which 
in  other  instances  so  fully  marks  the  works  of  the 
Creator,  in  operation  here  also.  The  ocean,  which 
made  the  adjacent  soil  so  sandy  and  gravelly,  con 
tained  in  its  bosom,  and  often  cast  upon  the  shore, 
the  very  best  materials  for  enriching  that  soil. 
Though  the  land  in  the  vicinity  had  been  occu 
pied  for  two  centuries,  no  one  had  thought  of 
enriching  it  with  the  products  of  the  sea.  Mr. 
Webster  began  to  inquire  at  once,  whether  the 
kelp  and  menhaden  from  the  adjacent  waters 
could  profitably  be  used  as  manure.  The  only 
obstacle  in  the  way  was  the  want  of  access  with 
teams  to  the  beach.  A  bridge  and  causeway  were 
wanted  over  a  small  creek  and  the  adjacent  marsh, 
which  lay  between  his  arable  lands  and  the  ocean. 
The  necessary  improvements  were  made  by  the 
subscription  of  neighboring  farmers  at  Mr.  Web 
ster's  instigation,  he  himself  heading  the  contribu 
tion  and  paying  most  liberally  for  the  purpose. 
The  fish  which  he  used  for  manure  are  a  species 
of  herring  not  known  in  Europe,  but  called  in  the 
United  States  "  hard-heads  "  and  "  menhaden."  In 
summer  they  migrate  North,  and  appear  off  the 
shore  at  Marshfield  in  June  or  July.  When  the 
weather  is  mild  and  the  sea  smooth,  they  approach 
the  shore  and  enter  the  mouths  of  rivers  and 
creeks,  and  sometimes  seem  to  be  driven  almost 
out  of  the  water  by  sharks  and  other  large 
fishes  that  feed  on  them.  They  are  taken  in 

18 


274  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

seines,  are  drawn  off  by  cartloads,  and  spread 
upon  the  land.  Mr.  Webster  sometimes  used  ten 
or  twelve  loads  to  the  acre.  Occasionally,  a  com 
post  was  made  by  mixing  large  quantities  of  loam 
or  muck  or  decayed  vegetable  matter  with  the 
fish ;  and,  by  digging  it  over  once  or  twice  in  the 
autumn,  a  very  excellent  manure  was  prepared  for 
the  next  spring.  The  use  of  the  fish,  when  spread 
upon  the  soil,  always  brought  with  it  swarms  of 
flies  of  a  peculiar  hue  and  size,  which  for  a  time 
were  very  troublesome  to  laborers  and  housekeep 
ers  in  the  neighborhood.  General  Lyman  gives  a 
conversation  which  he  had  about  them  with  a  man 
in  Pembroke,  Mass. 

"  I  told  him,"  said  he,  "  that  I  was  going  to 
Marshfield. 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  man,  '  you  will,  of  course,  see 
the  squire's  farm.' 

"  '  Quite  likely,'  I  replied. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  you  will  see  something  worth 
seeing;  yet  I  did  not  know,  two  months  ago,  but 
that  he  would  drive  us  all  out  of  Pembroke.  I 
believe  the  squire  spreads  on  his  land,  in  the  sum 
mer,  about  all  the  fish  he  can  find  in  the  sea  and 
get  out  of  it.  These  breed  a  pestilent  quantity  of 
black  flies ;  not  our  common  house-flies,  but  black, 
glossy  fellows,  that  come  about  two  hundred  times 
as  thick  as  you  ever  saw  common  flies  about  a  plate 
of  molasses.  When  the  wind  is  east,  it  brings  them 
here,  and  they  remind  us  of  Scripture  times  and 
the  plagues  of  Egypt.  However,  they  don't  trouble 
us  long ;  for  when  the  wind  changes,  they  make  off 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   275 

for  Cape  Cod.'  '  These  insects  were  known  in  the 
neighborhood  as  "  Webster  flies." 

The  effect  of  this  kind  of  manure  is  felt  by  the 
soil  for  many  years,  and  when  once  put  into  good 
condition  by  a  liberal  outlay  for  fish,  it  amply  re 
pays  all  expenses  by  the  abundant  crops  which  it 
afterwards  yields.  This  species  of  fish  has  now  be 
come  an  article  of  commerce  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
ocean.  The  usual  length  of  the  menhaden  is  from 
ten  to  fifteen  inches ;  its  weight,  about  one  pound. 
Two  hundred  of  them  fill  a  barrel,  which  is  worth 
at  the  shore  fifteen  or  twenty  cents.  It  is  thought 
that  one  fish  is  equivalent  to  a  shovelful  of  common 
manure.  Very  large  quantities  are  taken  by  fish 
ermen  at  a  single  haul,  —  often  from  one  hundred 
to  five  hundred  barrels.  They  are  too  oily  to  be 
valuable  for  food,  and  are  used  chiefly  as  fertilizers 
of  the  land  or  as  bait  for  larger  fish. 

The  kelp,  or  rock-weed,  was  another  product  of 
the  sea  much  employed  by  Mr.  Webster  to  restore 
his  worn-out  lands.  After  an  eastern  storm,  large 
masses  of  this  weed  are  thrown  upon  the  beach ; 
and,  if  drawn  off  and  applied  immediately  to  the  soil, 
it  is  found  to  be  worth  as  much  as  three  times  the 
quantity  of  ordinary  barn  manure.  It  costs  nothing 
except  the  drawing ;  but,  when  green  and  wet,  it  is 
exceedingly  heavy  and  difficult  to  be  moved.  After 
the  building  of  the  bridge  over  the  creek,  most  of 
the  farmers,  for  many  miles  around,  began  to  visit 
the  beach  with  their  teams  and  draw  off  the  kelp. 
This  has  greatly  increased  the  productive  power, 
and  of  course  the  value,  of  their  soil.  The  kelp 


276  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

brings  with  it  no  troublesome  weeds,  like  manure 
from  the  barn-yard.  Its  odor  is  agreeable,  having 
the  peculiar  scent  of  salt-water  vegetation,  and  it 
is  clean  and  conducive  to  the  health  of  those  who 
handle  it.  Mr.  Webster  applied  it  with  great  suc 
cess  to  the  potato  crop,  especially  after  the  potato 
disease  appeared.  It  was  found  very  useful  in  the 
raising  of  all  root  crops,  as  well  as  hay ;  indeed,  it 
is  an  inexhaustible  treasure  to  those  who  occupy  the 
thin,  pebbly  soils  on  the  Cape  and  its  vicinity. 

In  process  of  time  Mr.  Webster  became  very 
much  attached  to  Marshfield.  It  was  never  out 
of  his  mind,  whether  he  were  there  or  absent; 
and  it  is  worthy  of  notice  that,  however  much  he 
might  be  burdened  with  public  and  private  cares, 
he  seldom  failed  to  write  daily  to  some  one  at 
Marshfield.  When  he  returned  to  this  cherished 
retreat  like  an  accepted  lover,  he  wrote  to  his  ab 
sent  friends  of  the  charms  of  his  "  sweet  home." 
He  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  fine  stock,  and 
gave  strict  attention  to  their  accommodations  and 
comfort.  After  the  building  of  his  large  barn,  he 
used  daily  to  visit  and  feed  his  cattle  after  they 
had  been  "  tied  up  "  according  to  size  and  age. 

One  day  he  invited  Fletcher  and  myself  to  go 
with  him,  and  see  the  animals  settle  among  them 
selves  their  own  rank  and  precedence,  as  they  werp 
brought  in  to  be  tied  up  for  the  night.  Farmers 
very  well  know  that  cattle  are  as  particular  about 
their  position  in  society  and  their  accredited  stanch 
ions  as  diplomatists  at  a  royal  court. 

After  each  animal  was  secured  in  his  place,  Mr. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND   FRANKLIN.       277 

Webster  amused  himself  by  feeding  them  with 
ears  of  corn  from  an  unhusked  pile  lying  on  the 
barn  floor.  As  his  son  was  trying  to  keep  himself 
warm  by  playing  with  the  dog,  he  said  :  — 

"  You  do  not  seem,  my  son,  to  take  much  inter 
est  in  this ;  but,  for  my  part  [and  here  he  broke 
an  ear  and  fed  the  pieces  to  the  oxen  on  his  right 
and  left,  and  watched  them  as  they  crunched  it], 
I  like  it.  I  had  rather  be  here  than  in  the  Senate." 
Adding,  with  a  smile  which  showed  all  his  white 
teeth,  "  I  think  it  better  company." 

On  another  day,  we  had  been  out  fishing ;  and 
on  our  return,  as  it  was  pleasant  weather,  he  pro 
posed  that  we  should  go  and  see  his  fine  yearlings. 
So  he  took  in  his  hand  a  Malacca  joint,  nearly  ten 
feet  long,  which  his  son  Edward  had  given  him, 
and  we  started  out  over  the  hill.  Porter  Wright 
went  with  us,  and  we  examined  the  yearlings. 
Mr.  Webster  knew  them  all,  —  how  many  there 
were,  their  breed,  their  value,  their  ages,  how 
they  were  to  be  kept,  and  all  about  them.  I  used 
to  take  the  greatest  interest  in  hearing  him  talk 
about  cows,  horses,  and  farm  topics  generally. 
After  examining  the  yearlings,  he  said  :  — 

"  We  will  now  go  over  to  Burial  Hill,  half  a 
mile  off.  I  want  to  show  you  some  fine  native 
sheep." 

He  stopped  a  moment  or  two  to  give  Porter 
Wright  some  directions  about  salting  the  year 
lings,  and  Fletcher  and  I  walked  down  the  hill 
ahead.  We  were  talking  pretty  intently,  and 
heard  no  noise,  till  we  were  startled  by  our  hats 


27S  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

tumbling  off  and  rolling  down  hill.  We  looked  up 
as  Mr.  Webster  ran  by  us,  flourishing  the  Malacca 
joint,  with  which  he  had  knocked  off  our  hats,  in 
the  air,  and  crying  out  in  a  laughing  way :  — 

"How's  your  folks?" 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  cordial  fondness  for  animals. 
I  never  knew  a  man  more  devoted  to  all  kinds  of 
domestic  creatures.  He  was  very  kind  to  them, 
as  he  was  to  every  living  thing.  He  delighted  in 
fine  cattle  and  sheep.  When  he  lived  in  Washing 
ton,  he  always  kept  around  him  some  animals  to 
remind  him  of  rural  life.  He  had  a  cow  in  his 
yard  and  some  favorite  fowls.  He  had  a  number 
of  hens,  which  he  took  peculiar  pleasure  in  feeding 
and  watching.  He  used  to  come  from  the  State 
Department  to  his  parlor,  and,  finding  Mrs.  Web 
ster's  little  work-basket  on  the  sideboard,  he  would 
go  up  softly  and  say,  "  I  think  I  may  venture  to 
take  this  little  basket ;  "  and  he  would  empty  it  of 
its  contents,  and  go  to  the  barn  to  get  the  hens' 
eggs.  He  would  bring  them  in  and  talk  about 
them  with  all  the  glee  and  joyousness  of  boyhood. 
This  he  did  every  day.  It  was  one  of  those  little 
pleasures  which  reminded  him  of  his  early  home. 
He  loved  also  every  thing  which  reminded  him  of 
his  mother.  For  many  years  he  retained  a  little 
poem  which  he  wrote  to  his  mother  from  Hanover, 
on  his  first  return  from  college,  specifying  what  he 
would  like  her  to  get  for  his  dinner.  He  could 
find  nothing  away  from  home  that  equalled  his 
mother's  cooking.  So  he  wrote  to  her  a  poetical 
letter  to  herald  his  arrival,  and  to  ask  her  to  cook 


HOME  LITE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   279 

for  him,  in  her  own  rare  manner,  his  favorite  dish 
of  chickens  and  pork. 

He  took  great  interest  in  all  agricultural  mat 
ters  and  improvements,  and  tried  to  procure  and 
introduce  among  his  neighbors  the  best  breeds  of 
domestic  animals,  —  cattle,  sheep,  swine,  fowls,  — 
the  best  grains,  esculent  roots,  and  fruits. 

Mr.  Webster's  farming  was  always  on  a  large 
scale  ;  he  disliked  small  fields  and  scrimped  patches. 
One  of  the  charms  of  Marshfield  to  him  was  the 
extensive  range  it  afforded  him  for  the  gratifica 
tion  of  his  bucolic  tastes. 

He  never  liked  to  hear  any  one  speak  of  "  his 
grounds."  He  would  say  :  — 

"  I  have  no  grounds  ;  mine  is  a  farm." 

The  distance  from  his  house  to  the  mouth  of 
Green  Harbor  River  is  about  two  miles.  At  this 
place  Mr.  Webster  kept  his  boats,  and  it  was  his 
custom  to  spend  a  large  portion  of  his  time  upon 
the  ocean,  when  he  was  at  Marshfield.  He  had  his 
boat  furniture  made  after  a  pattern  of  his  own,  ex 
pressly  for  himself,  and  stamped  with  the  initials 
of  his  name.  Several  large  tin  pails,  divided  into 
separate  compartments,  contained  the  salt  beef,  the 
brown  bread,  the  cheese,  knives  and  forks,  vinegar 
cruet,  mustard  pot,  and  other  little  necessaries  for  a 
brief  cruise.  To  the  storing  of  these  things  he  always 
gave  personal  attention,  and  served  oat  to  his  com 
panions  their  rations  with  his  own  hand.  What 
ever  he  did,  he  did  with  his  might ;  and  both  as  a 
fowler  and  a  fisherman  he  was  remarkably  success 
ful,  though  he  enjoyed  the  withdrawal  from  society 


280  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

which  his  boat  afforded,  whether  he  was  successful 
in  his  sport  or  not.  He  could  there  reflect  and 
commune  with  himself,  uninterrupted  by  any  in 
truder,  and  gaze  upon  the  sky  and  ocean,  forgetful 
of  all  less  peaceful  things.  He  never,  on  such  oc 
casions,  whoever  might  be  on  board,  allowed  any 
conversation  on  politics  or  business.  To  any  one 
who  could  give  him  information  about  natural  ob 
jects  he  lent  a  willing  ear.  He  had  the  faculty  of 
judging  wisely  as  to  each  man's  ability  to  give 
information  on  any  particular  subject ;  and  was 
pretty  sure  to  exhaust  his  informant's  store  of 
knowledge  before  his  examination  closed.  He 
studied  carefully  the  habits  of  birds  and  fishes,  the 
influence  of  tides  and  currents,  the  changes  of  the 
sky  and  winds ;  and  related  with  zest,  or  listened 
to  with  interest,  anecdotes  of  adventure  by  sea  or 
land,  and  occasionally  humorous  stories.  He  never 
tolerated  any  thing  indelicate  or  profane  in  the 
stories  to  which  he  listened,  and  under  no  circum 
stances  was  he  ever  known  to  utter,  on  such  occa 
sions,  any  language  which  might  not  be  repeated 
with  propriety  in  a  lady's  drawing-room. 

Pleased  thus  to  escape  from  business  and  all  its 
vexations,  he  was  always  greatly  annoyed  when 
his  plans  for  recreation  were  interrupted.  Some 
time  during  the  year  1842,  he,  wTith  Peterson,  his 
faithful  friend  and  constant  attendant,  and  Hatch, 
were  at  sea  in  his  little  yacht  "  Comet."  They 
were  some  miles  from  shore,  and  lay  at  anchor, 
fishing.  The  sport  was  good,  and  all  were  busy 
drawing  in  the  cod  and  haddock,  when  a  sail  was 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND  FRANKLIN.        281 

descried  bearing  down  upon  them  from  the  north 
ward.  Mr.  Webster  scrutinized  it  for  a  while 
through  his  pocket  glass,  and,  not  recognizing  it, 
said  to  Peterson  :  — 

"  Commodore,  you  know  '  the  cut  of  the  jib  '  of 
every  boat  or  vessel  that  is  commonly  seen  in  these 
waters.  Take  my  glass  and  tell  me  what  craft  that 
is  yonder." 

Peterson  looked,  and  pronounced  it  a  strange 
sail.  Mr.  Webster  then  said  :  — 

"  Upon  which  point  of  the  wind  will  the  '  Comet ' 
sail  fastest  ?  " 

The  commodore  replied  :  — 

"  About  half  free." 

"  Where  will  that  take  us,  as  the  wind  now  is  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Webster. 

"  To  Provincetown,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Weigh  anchor  then,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  and 
put  her  under  full  sail.  That  stranger  is  an  office- 
seeker,  and  we  will  give  him  a  wide  berth." 

Away  scudded  the  "  Comet "  to  Provincetown ; 
the  breeze  was  fresh,  and  Peterson  was  at  the  helm. 
After  an  hour's  sail  the  strange  craft  was  "  hull 
down."  Taking  a  long  breath,  grateful  for  his 
escape,  Mr.  Webster  anchored  again  and  resumed 
his  fishing.  On  his  return  home,  at  evening,  he 
learned  that  his  suspicions  respecting  the  character 
of  the  strange  sail  were  correct.  Some  person  from 
one  of  the  towns  along  the  coast  towards  the  north 
was  an  applicant  for  the  post  of  lighthouse-keeper. 
He  had  taken  the  precaution  to  go  to  Marshfield 
by  water,  thinking  that  possibly  Mr.  Webster  might 


282  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

be  out  on  a  fishing  excursion,  to  solicit  the  states 
man's  influence  in  securing  the  appointment. 

As  Mr.  Webster  was  fond  of  manly  sports,  of 
course  he  liked  a  good  horse  well,  though  he  liked 
handsome  cattle  better.  He  was  very  particular 
to  have  his  horses  well  cared  for  and  well  groomed. 
He  seldom  sold  one  that  had  done  him  good  ser 
vice.  Three  of  his  favorite  horses  were  buried  on 
his  farm,  on  the  top  of  an  eminence  visible  from 
the  house.  He  had  them  buried,  as  he  said,  "  with 
the  honors  of  war ;  "  that  is,  standing  upright, 
with  their  halters  and  shoes  on.  For  one  of  them, 
remarkable  as  a  roadster,  named  "  Steamboat,"  the 
following  epitaph  was  written  :  — 

"  Siste,  Viator  ! 
Viator  te  major  hie  sistit." 

He  had  a  favorite  black  marc  "  Jenny,"  —  a 
fine,  spirited  animal,  and  an  excellent  traveller. 
One  warm  day  in  May  he  invited  a  relative,  Mr. 
Joy,  who  was  visiting  Marshfield,  to  go  trouting 
with  him.  "  Jenny "  was  harnessed  to  his  open 
wagon,  and  they  proceeded  to  try  the  brooks  in 
the  north  part  of  Marshfield.  After  trying  several 
with  tolerable  fortune,  as  they  were  going  to  an 
other,  the  sun  pouring  down  upon  their  heads, 
along  an  uninteresting  stretch  of  straight  road 
without  a  tree  on  either  side,  but  leading  to  a 
pleasant  grove  on  a  hill  about  half  a  mile  off,  he 
began  to  touch  the  mare  with  the  whip. 

"  Mr.  Joy,"  said  he,  "  we  hear  much  of  the  won 
derful  instinct  of  Arabian  horses ;  that  they  dis- 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.       283 

cover  the  existence  of  water  at  a  great  distance  on 
the  desert,  when  they  are  thirsty  [here  he  touched 
up  the  mare]  ;  but  this  horse  [another  touch]  is 
vastly  superior  to  them  [here  another  touch,  and 
by  this  time  "Jenny"  was  going  at  her  utmost 
speed.  They  had  nearly  reached  the  grove].  This 
horse  not  only  knows  when  she  is  thirsty,  but  when 
her  master  is  also.  See  how  she  presses  on  to  that 
grove,  where  she  knows  we  shall  stop  and  take  a 
drop." 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  pulled  up  undei 
the  trees,  and,  with  his  pleasant  laugh,  offered  Mr. 
Joy  his  little  flask  of  spirits  and  water. 

To  his  guns  he  gave  names  after  the  fashion  of 
most  old  hunters.  He  had  his  "  Mrs.  Patrick,"  his 
"  Learned  Selden,"  his  "  Wilmot  Proviso,"  and 
several  others.  His  trout  rod,  with  which  he  used 
to  fish  about  Sandwich  and  Marshfield  Rivers,  was 
"  Old  Killall,"  made  for  him  by  the  notorious  John 
Trout.  It  was  with  this  rod  in  his  hand,  as  he 
waded  Marshfield  River,  that  he  composed  a  por 
tion  of  his  Bunker-Hill  oration,  as  he  writes  in  his 
biography.  His  son,  Fletcher  Webster,  remem 
bered  the  occurrence  well. 

No  one  enjoyed  the  incidents  of  shooting  and 
fishing  more  than  he.  He  liked  to  commune  with 
plain  people,  living  in  out-of-the-way  places,  whom 
he  encountered ;  and  occasionally  he  would  derive 
more  amusement  from  the  men  he  met  than  from 
the  fish  he  caught.  His  son  Fletcher  has  left  the 
following  account  of  a  fishing  excursion  on  the 
Cape  :  — 


284  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  I  was  taken  along  with  him,  to  make  trial  of 
a  certain  brook  of  which  we  had  heard,  but  had 
never  visited,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgot 
ten.  It  was  some  eight  or  ten  miles  from  Sand 
wich.  We  drove  through  the  pine  woods,  and  at 
last  reached  the  stream.  It  ran  through  an  open 
meadow,  near  which,  on  the  rising  ground,  stood 
the  owner's  house.  My  father  drove  up  to  the 
fence,  and,  finding  the  occupant  there,  very  civilly 
asked  permission  of  the  old  man  to  fasten  his  horse 
for  an  hour  or  two.  This  was  readily  granted. 
He  knew  the  man's  name,  which,  I  think,  was 
Baker,  with  whom  he  commenced  a  conversation 
by  some  trivial  remark  about  the  weather,  and  re 
ceived  a  similar  reply.  As  he  was  preparing  his 
rod  and  line,  the  conversation  proceeded. 

"  WEBSTER.  ( Well,  Mr.  Baker,  with  your  leave, 
we  thought  we  would  like  to  try  and  take  a  trout 
in  your  brook.7 

"  BAKER.     '  Oh,  yes,  sir,  very  welcome  to.' 

"  WEBSTER.  *  I  have  heard  that  there  was  very 
good  fishing  in  it,  Mr.  Baker.' 

"  BAKER.  '  Well,  a  good  many  folks  have  been 
here,  and  taken  a  good  many  trout  out  some 
times.' 

"  WEBSTER.  '  We  must  try  and  see  what  we  can 
do  this  morning.  Where  do  they  usually  begin  to 
fish  ? ' 

"  BAKER.     <  Oh,  I'll  show  you.' 

"  The  old  man  accompanied  my  father  to  the 
brook,  and  pointed  out  the  spot.  It  was  where 
the  brook  was  thickly  overhung  with  alders,  and 


HOME   LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND   FRANKLIN.        285 

the  ground  was  very  miry.     Father  sank  into  the 

mud  half-way  up  his  leg. 

"  WEBSTER.     '  Rather  miry  here,  Mr.  Baker/ 

"  BAKER.     '  Yes,  that 's  the  worst  on't/ 

"  After  throwing  several  times,  and  catching  his 

hook  in  the  alders  :  — 

"  WEBSTER.     '  These  alders   are  rather   in    the 

way,  Mr.  Baker.' 

"  BAKER.     '  I  know  it.     That 's  the  worst  on't/ 
"  The  mosquitoes  now  began  to  bite  most  an 
noy  ingly  ;  one  hand  was  busy  all  the  time  slapping 

them  off  the  face  and  the  other  hand. 

"  WEBSTER.    '  These  mosquitoes  are  pretty  thick 

and  very  hungry,  Mr.  Baker/ 

"  BAKER.     '  I  know  it.     That 's  the  worst  on't/ 
"  Now  the  heat  in  the  low  ground,  without  a 

breath   of   air,  had   become   intense.     My  father 

wiped  his  forehead  and  rested  a  moment. 

"  WEBSTER.     '  It  is  very  hot  down  here  in  these 

bushes,  Mr.  Baker/ 

"  BAKER.     '  I  know  it.     That 's  the  worst  on't/ 
"  My  father  resumed  his  fishing,  and  after  an 

hour's   struggle   with   the   heat,  the   bushes,  the 

mire,  and  the  mosquitoes  :  — 

"  WEBSTER.     '  There  seem  to  be  no  fish  here, 

Mr.  Baker/ 

"  BAKER.     '  I  know  it.     That 's  the  worst  on't/ 
"  There  was  no  resisting  this.     My  father  put 

up  his  rod  and  departed ;  but  he  laughed  all  the 

way  home  at  the  '  worst  on't,'   and  always  took 

pleasure  in  recalling  the  occurrence  to  mind/' 
There  was  no  sport  into  which  Mr.  Webster  en- 


286  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

tered  with  more  zest  than  fishing :  it  seemed  as  if 
he  never  tired  of  it.  I  remember  that  we  were 
once  going  out  quite  early  for  a  day's  fishing,  at  a 
place  about  two  miles  from  the  house,  near  where 
his  boat  was  moored.  Fletcher  and  Edward,  his 
two  sons,  went  with  us.  We  rode  in  an  open 
wagon,  Mr.  Webster  driving.  When  we  got 
almost  to  the  gate  leading  to  the  main  driveway 
down  to  the  ocean,  he  reined  up  the  horse,  a 
spirited  animal,  and  hallooed  to  his  man  Baker, 
who  was  a  matter-of-fact  sort  of  man.  Baker  came 
trotting  along. 

"  Baker,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  bring  me  my  mili 
tary  hat.  I  have  taken  the  wrong  one." 

So  the  man  trotted  back  to  the  house  and 
brought  the  hat,  and  started  to  return.  He  had 
gone  but  a  short  distance,  when  Mr.  Webster  called 
out  to  him  again ;  and  Baker  once  more  retraced 
his  steps. 

"  Baker,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  shall  I  catch  for 
you  to-day  some  large  cod,  or  some  small  ones  ? 
Which  do  you  prefer  ?  " 

The  man  looked  perfectly  amazed,  and  stopped 
to  think. 

"  Baker  will  solve  that  problem  by  the  time 
we  get  back,"  said  Mr.  Webster.  "  We  will  go 
out  and  catch  some  fish,  and  then  come  in  and 
dine." 

At  Marshfield,  it  was  always  Mr.  Webster's  cus 
tom  to  retire  very  early  at  night  and  to  rise  early 
in  the  morning. 

On  one  occasion  we  had  started  on  a  day's  excur- 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   287 

sion.  The  hay  had  been  cut  on  the  lawn,  and  was 
piled  up  in  stacks.  We  had  on  our  tarpaulin  suits. 
Mr.  Webster  gave  me  a  sly  wink,  and  said :  — 

"  Let  us  see  who  can  jump  over  that  high  cock." 

"  I  dare  you  to,"  said  I. 

"  Harvey,"  he  returned,  "  I  don't  propose  to  be 
dared." 

He  started  away,  and  ran,  and  jumped  over  it. 
I  was  not  quite  so  alert,  but  I  followed,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  clearing  the  top  of  it.  Fletcher  came 
next,  and  he  went  over. 

"  Now,  Ned  !  "  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  start !  "  Ned 
ran  for  it,  but  owing,  I  suppose,  to  heedlessness,  it 
happened  that  he  hit  the  cock,  and  pitched  head 
over  heels.  That  amused  Mr.  Webster,  causing  him 
to  laugh  very  heartily. 

"  What  an  athletic  fellow  you  are  !  "  said  he. 
"  What  a  wrestler  you  would  make  !  " 

Ned  was  of  a  very  sober  cast,  never  entering 
into  any  thing  hilarious,  but  being  very  temperate 
in  his  manner. 

When  we  got  to  the  boat,  and  were  having  good 
sport  and  luck,  Mr.  Webster  called  out,  — 

"  Where  is  that  military  hero  ?  " 

We  were  all  busy  with  our  affairs,  and  I  did  not 
observe  Ned.  Mr.  Webster  shouted  out  again, 
laughing,  "  Where  is  that  military  hero?  " 

By  and  by  I  looked  into  the  cuddy,  or  the  little 
cabin,  and  there  Edward  lay  stretched  out. 

"  I  have  hurt  myself,  by  father's  fooling,"  he 
said  ;  "  he  is  always  suggesting  something  for  a 
scrape  to  break  my  neck." 


288  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  Where  did  you  hurt  yourself  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  hurt  my  knee ;  and  it  pains  me  so  that  T 
thought  I  would  leave  off  fishing." 

When  I  went  back  to  the  rail,  where  they  were 
hauling  in  the  fish,  I  whispered  to  Mr.  Webster, 
and  told  him  that  Edward  had  hurt  himself  in  that 
jump,  and  that  he  was  in  a  good  deal  of  pain. 

Mr.  Webster  dropped  his  line  instantly,  and  his 
countenance  fell. 

"  Let  me  go  right  to  him,"  said  he.  "  Why, 
how  cruel  I  have  been  !  My  son,  I  ask  your 
pardon ;  I  had  not  the  remotest  conception  that 
you  had  hurt  yourself;  let  us  bathe  it  in  some 
thing." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ned. 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  I  will,"  replied  his  father. 

And  Mr.  Webster  soothed  him,  found  out  where 
the  pain  was,  got  some  spirits,  and  had  them  ap 
plied.  This  little  affair  seemed  to  mar  Mr.  Web 
ster's  whole  sport  for  the  day. 

"We  will  go  home,"  he  said;  "we  won't  pur 
sue  this  sport  any  longer."  And  he  continued  to 
show  the  greatest  interest  and  tenderness  towards 
his  son. 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  a  great  many  times  after 
wards,  and  once  after  Edward's  death,  how  badly 
he  felt  about  that  accident. 

On  one  occasion  in  Washington,  which  I  will 
mention  in  this  connection,  two  or  three  years 
before  he  died,  I  had  noticed  a  little  tendency 
to  wateriness  in  his  eyes;  and  I  spoke  to  him 
about  it. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND  FRANKLIN.       289 

"There  is  a  history  about  that  eye,"  said  he; 
"  and  I  will  tell  it  to  you.  But  it  must  not  go 
any  further." 

Mr.  Webster  then  related  to  me  the  following 
story :  — 

Some  two  years  before,  while  fishing  in  the 
"  Julia,"  which  was  the  name  of  his  boat  (so 
named  for  his  daughter),  Fletcher  was  fishing  by 
his  side,  and  their  lines  got  crossed  and  tangled. 
There  was  a  fish  on  both  lines.  In  the  excite 
ment  of  the  sport,  which  any  one  accustomed  to 
fishing  will  appreciate,  Fletcher  gave  a  tremendous 
pull  upon  his  line,  and  the  fish  broke  from  it.  Mr. 
Webster  was  on  his  left,  and  as  Fletcher  pulled 
his  line  up,  soaked  in  salt  water,  it  came  right  into 
Mr.  Webster's  eye.  He  said  that  for  a  moment  the 
pain  was  more  excruciating  than  any  thing  that  he 
ever  suffered.  It  seemed  to  pull  across  the  pupil 
of  his  eye.  He  said  that  Fletcher,  although  he 
was  not  to  blame  in  the  least,  felt  that  he  had 
been  the  cause  of  this  accident. 

"  I  made  as  light  of  it  as  possible,"  Mr.  Webster 
went  on,  "  and  the  intensity  of  the  pain  was  over 
in  a  few  hours.  Fletcher  was  worried  constantly 
about  it,  though  I  told  him  that  it  amounted  to 
nothing.  But  that  eye  is  weak  yet,  and  it  has 
its  fits  of  watering  and  discomfort,  and  will,  I  sup 
pose,  as  long  as  I  live.  If  Fletcher  knew  it,  it 
would  make  him  perfectly  miserable  to  think  tha.t 
he  was  the  innocent  cause  of  giving  me  this  perma 
nent  injury.  Now,"  added  he,  "  say  nothing  to  any 
one  ;  for  you  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  to 

19 


290  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

whom  I  have  ever  told  this  story.  I  have  had  it 
suggested  by  others  that  that  eye  was  watery ;  but 
I  could  only  give  some  evasive  answer." 

Mr.  Healy,  Mr.  Webster's  law  partner,  once 
went  fishing  with  him  from  Marshfield,  but  they 
had  no  luck,  and  got  no  fish.  They  were  absent 
eight  hours,  and  did  not  have  a  bite.  When  they 
returned  they  found  three  or  four  persons  standing 
near  the  boat-house.  Mr.  Webster  kept  a  stable 
there  for  the  convenience  of  putting  up  his  horses 
when  he  went  fishing.  These  men  had  also  come 
there  to  go  fishing,  and  had  put  their  horses  into 
the  stable  without  permission.  When  Mr.  Webster 
approached,  they  showed  a  good  deal  of  trepidation, 
and  began  to  apologize.  He  said  that  no  apology 
was  necessary;  the  stable  was  built  for  the  purpose 
of  holding  horses. 

u  You  are  welcome,"  said  he,  "  to  keep  your 
horses  here,  while  going  out  fishing  ;  but  there  is 
no  probability  of  your  getting  any  fish,  for  we 
have  been  out  and  could  not  get  any." 

He  found  that  they  were  people  who  had  come 
seven  or  eight  miles  across  the  country  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  fishing,  and  he  freely  offered  them  his 
boat,  tackle,  and  bait ;  and  wished  them  better  luck 
than  he  had  had.  He  left  them,  and  drove  along 
home.  On  the  way  he  said  to  Mr.  Healy :  — 

"  These  people  have  come  a  long  distance,  ex 
pecting  to  have  a  chowder,  and  I  feel  sorry  that 
they  will  fare  no  better." 

When  Mr.  Webster  got  home,  he  divided  the  fish 
which  he  had  purchased  for  his  own  use,  and  sent 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.       291 

half  of  them  to  these  men.  This  simply  illustrates 
his  great  kindness  to  everybody. 

An  old  and  intimate  friend J  relates  the  following 
recollections  of  Mr.  Webster  at  home.  As  he  was 
walking  with  Mr.  Webster  near  the  Marshfield  house 
one  morning  in  June,  he  observed  that  the  small 
birds  were  numerous  and  more  tame  than  usual, 
and  mentioned  it  to  his  host. 

"  I  take  great  pleasure/'  replied  Mr.  Webster, 
"  in  cultivating  a  good  understanding  with  these 
annual  visitors.  I  love  their  company  and  their 


songs." 


While  he  was  speaking,  a  musket  was  fired  not 
far  from  them.  Mr.  Webster  spoke  to  one  of  his 
men  near  by :  — 

"  Drive  that  fellow  from  my  premises !  I  don't 
want  these  little  creatures  disturbed.  I  watch 
them  with  delight,  and  protect  them ;  their  nests 
have  my  constant  care  and  oversight,  and  I  never 
permit  any  one  to  disturb  them." 

The  same  friend  describes  a  fishing  excursion 
in  company  with  Mr.  Webster,  during  this  visit, 
in  which  the  statesman  seemed  to  be  abstracted 
for  some  time,  and  far  away  from  the  scene  of  his 
recreation.  Finally  he  shouted,  — 

"  I've  got  him  !  " 

He  had  hooked  a  very  large  halibut,  which  he 
tried  to  draw  gently  up  to  the  surface,  ordering  his 
men  to  be  ready  with  the  boat-hooks  to  secure  him 
as  soon  as  he  should  appear.  Just  as  the  fish  rose 
in  sight  the  line  broke,  and  the  fish  was  off.  Mr. 

1  Thomas  Tileson 


292  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Webster  was  greatly  excited,  and  exclaimed  as  lie 
darted  away,  — 

"  Was  he  not  a  noble  fellow  ?  " 

Ee turning  from  their  fishing  excursion,  a  farmer 
from  the  vicinity  approached  Mr.  Webster,  and,  tak 
ing  from  his  pocket  a  long  leather  purse,  handed 
Mr.  Webster  half  a  dollar,  saying,  — 

"  Your  men  have  been  very  successful  to-day  in 
taking  menhaden,  and  I  have  loaded  my  wagon 
with  them.  It  is  right  that  I  should  pay  for 
them." 

Mr.  Webster  was  taken  by  surprise  ;  and  though 
he  did  not  want  the  half  dollar,  he  disliked  to  re 
fuse  it,  fearing  he  might  give  offence.  The  farmer 
then  drove  off,  and  Mr.  Webster,  turning  to  his 
friend,  said  that  this  was  the  first  money  that  he 
had  ever  received  from  his  Marshfield  estate.  He 
probably  meant  the  payment  of  money  to  himself 
personally,  as  he  was  not  accustomed  to  sell  his  own 
produce.  At  the  same  interview,  Mr.  Webster  be 
ing  questioned  respecting  the  truth  of  the  anecdote 
that  he  had  once  carried  two  young  men  (strangers 
to  him)  on  his  back  across  a  creek  on  the  marsh, 
admitted  that  he  once  performed  such  a  service, 
and  was  offered  half  a  dollar  by  each  of  the  young 
men  for  his  welcome  assistance. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Webster  went  to  Marshfield,  he 
was  one  day  out  on  the  marshes,  shooting  birds. 
It  was  in  the  month  of  August,  when  the  farmers 
were  securing  their  salt  hay.  He  came,  in  the 
course  of  his  rambles,  to  the  Green  Harbor  Kiver, 
which  he  wished  to  cross.  He  beckoned  to  one  of 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.       293 

the  men  on  the  opposite  bank  to  take  him  over  in 
his  boat,  which  lay  moored  in  sight.  The  man  at 
once  left  his  work,  came  over,  and  paddled  Mr. 
Webster  across  the  stream.  He  declined  the  pay 
ment  offered  him,  but  lingered  a  moment,  with 
Yankee  curiosity,  to  question  the  stranger.  He 
surmised  who  Mr.  Webster  was,  and  with  some 
hesitation  remarked :  — 

"  This  is  Daniel  Webster,  I  believe." 

"  That  is  my  name,"  replied  the  sportsman. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  the  farmer,  "  I  am  told  that 
you  can  make  from  three  to  five  dollars  a  day, 
pleadin'  cases  up  in  Boston." 

Mr.  Webster  replied  that  he  was  sometimes  so  for 
tunate  as  to  receive  that  amount  for  his  services. 

"  Well,  now,"  returned  the  rustic,  "  it  seems 
to  me,  I  declare,  if  I  could  get  as  much  in  the 
city,  pleadin'  law  cases,  I  would  not  be  a-wadin' 
over  these  marshes  this  hot  weather,  shootin'  little 
birds  !  " 

During  a  summer  and  autumn  in  the  early 
years  of  his  residence  at  Marshfield,  Mr.  Webster 
was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  Cohasset,  Chelsea 
Beach,  and  Nantasket  Beach,  to  enjoy  the  shoot 
ing  of  wild  fowl.  It  was  in  the  day  of  single-bar 
relled  guns  and  flint  locks,  and  before  percussion 
caps  had  come  into  use.  It  was  the  custom  of 
sportsmen,  in  those  days,  to  apply  their  lips  to 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun  after  a  discharge,  to  blow 
the  smoke  from  the  barrel.  This  practice  often  re 
peated  smutted  the  face  very  considerably ;  and 
in  Mr.  Webster's  case  added  rather  a  grim  ap- 


294  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

pearance  to  his  usually  swarthy  complexion.  On 
one  occasion,  Mr.  Webster,  being  at  Chelsea  Beach, 
had  for  some  hours  been  lying  among  the  tall  gras« 
which  grew  abundantly  on  the  high  bank  overlook 
ing  the  beach,  and  from  his  concealment  shooting 
at  the  flocks  of  birds  as  they  sailed  along  over  the 
beach  and  the  adjacent  waters.  Suddenly  a  flock 
appeared,  flying  quite  low.  He  was  obliged  to 
lower  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  below  the  horizontal 
range  to  bring  the  birds  before  his  eye.  The 
moment  he  had  fired,  he  heard  an  outcry  from 
some  one  on  the  beach  below.  He  instantly 
sprang  up,  and  looking  over  the  bank  discovered 
a  man  rubbing  his  face  and  shoulder,  and  showing 
indications  of  being  hurt.  Mr.  Webster,  in  his 
soiled  sporting  costume,  and  with  his  face  and 
hands  begrimed  with  powder,  rushed  down  to  the 
the  stranger  in  some  alarm,  exclaiming :  — 

"  My  dear  sir,  did  I  hit  you  ?  " 

The  man  gave  a  single  look  at  the  sportsman, 
and  replied  with  spirit :  "  Yes,  you  did  hit  me  ;  and 
from  your  looks,  I  should  think  that  I  am  not  the 
first  man  you  have  shot,  either." 

It  has  already  been  said  that  Mr.  Webster  di 
vided  his  affections  and  his  leisure  between  his 
home  at  Marshfield  and  the  old  farm  at  Franklin. 
Scarcely,  perhaps  never,  did  a  year  pass  that  he 
did  not  go  to  Elms  Farm  at  Franklin,  not  only 
for  rest,  but  to  make  a  personal  inspection  of 
his  fields  and  live-stock.  It  was  at  Franklin,  too, 
that  he  often  received,  with  a  genial  hospitality, 
many  of  his  personal  and  political  friends.  I  have 


HOME   LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND   FRANKLIN.        295 

already  related  a  memorable  meeting  which  once 
took  place  there,  when  General  Pierce  was  the 
specially  honored  guest.  A  visit  to  Elms  Farm, 
when  its  lord  was  there,  was  indeed  a  rare  and 
happy  privilege.  There  he  fairly  unbent  and  be 
came  the  easy  and  social  companion,  as  well  as  the 
wise  and  thoughtful  teacher.  The  atmosphere  and 
surroundings  there  seemed  to  lure  him  to  deeper 
contemplation  than  ever.  His  moods  at  Franklin, 
sometimes  sunny  and  sometimes  sad,  were  seldom 
gloomy. 

His  interest  in  the  farm  itself  was  not  only  very 
great  when  he  was  upon  the  spot,  but  when  absent 
as  Senator  and  Secretary  of  State,  his  letters  and 
talk  showed  that  a  week  never  passed  in  which  his 
thoughts  did  not  revert  to  the  cattle,  the  crops, 
and  other  matters  relating  to  Elms  Farm.  His 
knowledge  of  farming  and  live-stock,  too,  was 
equal  to  his  interest  in  them.  He  was  a  true  yeo 
man's  son  to  the  day  of  his  death ;  and  the  man 
ner  in  which  he  addressed  his  steward  at  Franklin 
(John  Taylor),  as  "  Brother  Farmer,"  indicated,  as 
indeed  he  often  betrayed  otherwise,  that  he  was 
proud  of  belonging  to  the  sturdy  craft  of  hus 
bandry.  John  Taylor  was  a  sterling  farmer,  and 
his  qualities  were  thoroughly  appreciated  and 
highly  valued  by  Mr.  Webster,  who  trusted  him 
implicitly,  and  treated  him  rather  as  a  friend  than 
as  a  dependent.  Taylor  was  not  only  an  efficient 
tiller  of  the  soil,  but  a  man  of  marked  character, 
and  a  wit  of  no  small  calibre.  Mr.  Webster  once 
told  me  the  following  anecdote  of  him:  — 


296  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

After"  the  exciting  controversy  to  which  his  7th 
of  March  speech  was  incident,  Mr.  Webster  felt 
quite  wearied  and  ill  from  the  exertions  he  had 
undergone.  Dr.  Warren  was  called  in,  and  told 
him  that  he  was  not  suffering  from  any  disease, 
but  that  he  was  excited.  His  brain  was  exhausted 
from  overwork.  Rest  and  freedom  from  excite 
ment  were  the  proper  remedies.  He  must  leave 
his  books,  go  fishing,  and  lie  off  quietly.  He 
went  to  Marshfield,  but  it  was  difficult  to  isolate 
himself.  People  from  Plymouth  and  Duxbury, 
and  his  friends  from  Boston,  would  come  down 
to  see  him. 

"  We  cannot  get  on  here,"  said  he,  "  there  is 
too  much  company." 

I  was  down  there  with  him,  and  I  suggested  that 
Franklin  would  give  him  the  desired  retirement. 
So  he  went  to  Franklin  ;  but  it  was  the  same 
there.  When  it  became  known  that  he  was  at 
the  farm,  people  began  to  come  in  from  the  neigh 
boring  towns  to  see  him.  Sometimes  there  would 
be  a  dozen  wagons  at  a  time  surrounding  the  house. 
He  received  all  comers  kindly,  and  had  a  pleasant 
word  for  everybody. 

He  had  been  there  a  fortnight,  and  the  crowd  of 
visitors  did  not  decrease.  The  doctor  went  up  to 
see  him,  and  did  not  find  him  much  improved.  He 
saw  at  a  glance  what  the  difficulty  was,  for  there 
were  numbers  of  people  then  about  the  place.  After 
they  had  gone,  the  doctor  said :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster,  it  is  my  duty,  as  your  physician, 
to  say  to  you,  that  it  is  a  case  of  absolute  necessity 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.       297 

for  you  to  cease  receiving  this  company.  You 
can't  get  on  at  all  till  you  stop  it." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  said  Mr.  Webster. 
"  These  people  come  great  distances  to  pay  their 
respects  to  me.  How  can  I  say  that  I  won't  see 
them  ? " 

"  But  is  it  not  better  to  let  them  know  that  you 
are  sick  and  need  repose  ?  If  they  are  friends,  that 
will  be  a  sufficient  excuse  to  them." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  «  I  will." 

The  doctor  left  him,  and  he  immediately  called 
in  John  Taylor,  and  said :  — 

"  John,  I  am  going  up  to  my  chamber  to  lie  down 
and  rest.  I  am  tired.  John  Taylor,  do  you  see 
that  poker?" 

"  Yes,  squire." 

"  Well,  you  have  my  warrant  and  full  permission 
to  use  that  poker  upon  anybody  who  undertakes 
to  enter  this  house  to  disturb  me.  Do  you  under 
stand  ? " 

"  I  understand,  squire ;  you  need  not  trouble 
yourself." 

"  And  I  went  upstairs,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  and 
lay  down  and  fell  asleep.  How  long  I  slept  I  do 
not  know,  but  I  woke  up  refreshed.  It  was  near 
sundown,  and  no  noise  was  heard  save  the  chirp 
ing  of  the  crickets ;  every  thing  was  as  still  as  in 
the  midst  of  a  wilderness.  By  and  by  I  heard 
that  heavy  tread  of  John  Taylor  downstairs.  I 
shouted :  — 

"  '  John  Taylor,  come  up  here  ! ' 

"  He  came  up,  and  said  he  :  — 


298  REMINISCENCES   OF   DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  '  Squire,  you  have  slept  longer  than  you  have 
before  since  you  came  up  here.' 

"  '  Well,  how  goes  it  with  the  company  ?  Have 
you  had  occasion  to  use  the  poker  ?  ' 

" '  Yes,  squire ;  seventeen  souls  are  done  for, 
and  two-thirds  of  them  are  crippled  for  life  ! ' 

The  correspondence  which  constantly  passed  be 
tween  Mr.  Webster  and  John  Taylor,  and  which 
grew  more  frequent  than  ever  toward  the  end  of 
Mr.  Webster's  life,  well  illustrates  many  of  his  qual 
ities.  His  kindness  and  consideration,  his  knowl 
edge  of  cattle  and  farming,  his  talent  for  order 
and  administration,  his  quick  appreciation  of  work 
well  done,  and  his  leniency  in  regard  to  faults, 
appear  clearly  in  the  often  hurried  lines,  scratched 
off  amid  the  bustle  of  the  Senate  chamber  or  the 
crowding  business  of  the  State  Department,  to  his 
"  brother  farmer  "  at  Franklin.  A  large  number 
of  these  letters  having  come  into  my  possession,  I 
have  made  selections  from  them,  and  now  present 
some  of  the  more  interesting  and  characteristic  to 
the  reader.  The  letters  which  I  have  range  over 
the  period  between  1847  and  1852.1 


WASHINGTON,  Jan.  9,  1847. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  just  arrived  here,  and  find  your  three 
letters,  —  which  is  all  right.  I  do  not  wish  to  let  anybody 
into  the  old  house  in  the  absence  of  your  family.  It  is  better 
to  keep  it  shut  up.  Probably  I  shall  write  soon  for  Mr. 
George  to  move  the  T  and  finish  off  the  house  as  early  as 

l  Mr.  Fletcher  Webster  published  a  number  of  letters  of  his  father 
to  John  Taylor  in  his  "  Private  Correspondence."  None  of  the  letters 
•which  follow,  however,  appeared  in  that  work. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND   FRANKLIN.        299 

may  be  in  the  spring.     You  will  write  me  at  least  once  a 
week,  according  to  arrangement.     I  have  no  doubt  you  will 
take  good  care  of  every  thing,  and  carry  on  the  business 
with  spirit.     If  you  need  money,  let  me  know. 
Yours  truly, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
Mr.  TAYLOR. 


WASHINGTON,  Feb.  15, 1848. 

DEAR  SIR, —  As  you  have  now  snow  enough,  I  expected 
to  hear  of  your  being  engaged  in  hauling  wood  for  Mr. 
Nesmith.  You  must  take  right  hold,  and  take  hold  strong. 
You  have  four  oxen  and  a  pair  of  horses.  You  know  that 
good  farmers  must  not  suck  their  claws  in  the  winter.  I 
suppose  the  boys'  school  is  through  by  this  time.  Now,  if 
neaessary,  buy  a  cheap  pair  of  oxen,  and  get  needful  help. 
At  any  rate,  put  two  teams  right  to  the  work,  and  keep  them 
at  it  close  till  I  come.  You  must  earn  me  two  or  three  hun 
dred  dollars  this  winter  in  drawing  wood,  and  no  mistake. 
Enclosed  is  fifty  dollars;  you  can  have  a  little  more  when 
needed.  Now,  dear  sir,  let  me  know  that  you  have  taken 
hold  and  are  going  right  ahead. 

As  to  selling  the  timber  trees,  I  will  think  of  that.  I 
shall  be  with  you  soon.  Let  Mr.  Nesmith  know  at  once 
that  you  are  going  to  draw  a  great  part  of  the  forest  down 
to  the  railroad.  We  have  beautiful  weather  here  now.  We 
expect  Mrs.  Webster  home  again  this  week.  I  hope  you  are 
all  well,  and  expect  to  hear  from  you  as  usual.  How  many 
calves  have  you  ?  Yours, 

D.  WEBSTER. 
Mr.  TAYLOR. 


BOSTON,  Oct.  30. 

MR.  TAYLOR,  —  In  husking  your  corn,  I  wish  you  to  trace 
up  several  hundred  dozens  of  handsome  ears  for  seed  corn, 
one  dozen  in  a  bunch.  Keep  them  dry  and  safe  till  spring, 
and  they  can  be  sold  here  high.  We  got  here  well. 

D.  W 


300  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

FRIDAY,  Nov.  80. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  If  the  weather  holds  fair,  come  down  on 
Monday,  bringing  the  mutton  with  you,  and  also  your  two 
turnips  in  a  little  bag.  If  Monday  should  not  be  a  good  day, 
come  down  the  first  day  that  is  good.  Leave  the  turkeya 
fattening.  Yours, 

D.  W. 


JANUARY  6. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  are  all  well  and 
doing  well.  I  cannot  buy  Mr.  Farewell's  oxen.  Money  is 
too  scarce.  Besides,  it  is  not  good  management  to  exchange 
young  cattle  for  old.  The  growth  is  lost  when  that  is  done. 
We  can  get  you  something  to  do  your  work  in  the  spring. 
I  hope  to  hear  from  you  regularly.  D.  W. 

J.  T. 


WASHINGTON,  March  7,  1851. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  We  are  quite  distressed  to  hear  of  so  much 
sickness  in  your  family;  but,  as  neither  of  the  diseases  is 
positively  dangerous,  I  hope  you  will  all  be  soon  growing 
better.  I  send  you  a  check  for  thirty  dollars,  as  you  may 
be  in  want  of  some  money,  and  shall  write  you  again  soon. 
Yours  truly, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
Mr.  TAYLOR. 


WASHINGTON,  March  9,  1851. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  sent  you  a  check  for  thirty  dollars  a  few 
days  ago.  I  now  enclose  seventy  dollars,  making  one  hun 
dred  dollars  in  all.  This  is  to  enable  you  to  buy  lime,  plaster, 
&c.  I  have  ordered  a  considerable  quantity  of  guano  to  be 
sent  to  you.  I  do  not  wish  to  make  any  small  experiments. 
What  I  propose  to  do  is  this,  to  wit:  let  ten  measured  acres 
on  the  north  end  of  the  ploughed  land  in  the  pasture  be  har 
rowed  as  early  as  possible  with  a  heavy,  long-toothed  harrow  ; 
then  spread  the  guano,  mixed  with  plaster,  broadcast  by  the 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND  FRANKLIN.       301 

hand ;  let  there  be  three  times  as  much  bulk  of  plaster  as 
of  guano,  all  mixed  in  and  sown  carefully  and  evenly,  and 
then  harrow  again,  and  perhaps  harrow  a  third  time.  My 
object  is  to  get  the  guano  well  into  the  ground,  so  that  its 
strength  shall  not  evaporate  into  the  air.  Put  one  ton  and 
a  half  of  guano  upon  ten  acres.  When  you  have  got  it  well 
under,  then  plant  the  potatoes  in  drills  as  mentioned  in  your 
letter,  putting  in,  wherever  a  potato  is  dropped,  a  handful 
of  lime  and  plaster  and  a  very  little  salt,  according  to  Mr. 
Nesmith's  ideas.  Get  the  potatoes  into  the  ground  as  early 
as  possible.  As  to  sorts  of  seeds,  I  doubt  whether  you  can 
do  better  than  to  plant  a  good  many  of  the  York  reds.  Mr. 
Nesmith  is  a  good  counsellor  on  this  subject.  Now  you 
have  your  directions.  Follow  them  exactly  and  to  the  let 
ter,  and  whatever  may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  vary  not  one 
hair's  breadth  from  these  directions.  I  hope  to  see  you  by 
or  before  the  first  day  of  April ;  and  then  we  will  decide 
what  to  do  with  my  six  oxen.  Ask  Mr.  Osgood  why  he 
does  not  send  me  the  deed  of  the  old  house,  as  requested.  I 
trust  your  family  are  getting  better. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
JOHN  TAYLOR. 

P.  S.  The  ton  and  a  half  to  the  ten  acres  is  to  be  guano, 
not  calculating  the  plaster. 


11,  1851. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  came  home  eight  days  ago  well,  and  found 
Mrs.  Webster  well.  Letters  from  you  were  found  here,  as 
well  as  at  New  York.  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  you  are  all 
in  health.  The  weather  has  been  and  is  rather  cold.  I  fear 
your  corn  will  not  come  on  fast.  It  seems  a  good  year  for 
grass  ;  and  I  hope  oats,  turnips,  and  potatoes  will  do  well. 
I  think  a  great  deal  every  day  about  Franklin.  To-morrow 
is  the  day  for  a  letter  from  you.  Remember  me  kindly  to 
all  your  family.  Your  friend, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER, 
JOHN  TAYLOR. 


302          REMINISCENCES  OP  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

WASHINGTON,  July  2,  1851. 

JOHN  TAYLOR,  —  I  have  returned  and  find  your  letters, 
I  cannot  lay  out  a  dollar  in  horse-flesh,  and  the  rule  is,  you 
know,  to  have  no  trading  in  horses.  Your  horses  have 
worked  well  enough  together  heretofore,  and  I  hope  will  do 
so  still.  Keep  your  own  team,  do  your  own  work ;  do  not 
trouble  yourself  about  the  Sawyer  place,  give  your  whole 
attention  to  your  own  farm  and  your  own  business,  —  then 
all  will  go  well.  Never  mention  the  word  horse  to  me.  I 
expect  you  to  hire  all  the  labor  which  may  be  necessary  to 
carry  on  the  farming  briskly,  —  hoeing,  haying,  and  all  the 
rest.  Employ  good  men  at  fair  prices,  and  their  pay  shall 
be  ready  when  their  work  is  done,  or  as  it  goes  on.  I  en 
close  one  hundred  dollars  to  pay  for  labor.  Go  ahead !  t 
hope  you  and  your  family  are  all  well.  D.  W. 


Mr.  Webster  enclosed  a  letter  to  John  Taylor 
received  by  him  from  Porter  Wright,  telling  of 
the  quantities  of  kelp  procured  from  the  beaches 
near  Marshfield  for  manure.  On  the  back  of  the 
letter  appears  this  endorsement :  — 


MR.  TAYLOR,  —  Do  you  not  wish  that  kelp  was  found  in 
Merrimack  River  ?  D.  W. 


MAHSHFIELD,  Sept.  5. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  We  had  up  our  five  yoke  of  four-year  old 
steers  to-day,  and  measured  them.  The  smallest  girded  six 
feet  seven  inches,  the  largest  six  feet  eleven  inches.  The 
black  steer  and  his  mate  went  six  feet  nine  inches.  If  you 
get  in  the  rye  this  week,  and  all  necessary  things  done,  you 
may  come  down  the  early  part  of  next  week,  leaving  Henry 
to  take  the  lead  and  go  ahead  with  the  men.  Let  me  hear 
from  you.  D.  W. 


HOME  LIFE:  MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.   303 

MARSHFIELD,  SUNDAY  EVENING,  Sept.  14. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  Your  letter  arrived,  with  great  punctuality, 
last  evening,  and  I  was  glad  to  hear  from  you.  You  appear 
to  be  getting  along  with  work  very  well.  I  have  felt  quite 
anxious  about  the  potatoes,  and  am  glad  to  learn  that,  as  late 
as  Friday,  no  signs  of  rot  appeared.  My  own  health  is  much 
improved  ;  and,  indeed,  I  now  call  myself  well.  I  walk  as 
well  as  ever,  and  have  very  little  trouble  from  catarrh.  The 
greater  part  of  this  week  I  shall  be  in  Boston ;  and,  on  the 
receipt  of  this,  I  wish  you  to  write  to  me  to  the  Revere 
House,  Boston,  and  tell  me  about  the  potatoes.  I  suppose 
that  this  week  you  will  have  finished  any  thing  which  may 
remain  at  Northfield,  got  in  all  the  grain,  burnt  the  bushes, 
&G.  I  wish  you  to  send  down  our  two  men  next  Saturday , 
and,  if  every  thing  should  be  perfectly  safe  about  the  pota 
toes,  I  think  you  may  as  well  come  down  yourself  at  that 
time  for  a  day  or  two,  as  I  shall  probably  then  be  here. 
Please  take  the  best  care  of  the  beef  cattle.  As  the  Pem- 
berton  oxen  are  not  quite  large  enough  or  fat  enough,  I  am 
willing  they  should  be  exchanged  for  a  larger  and  fatter 
pair.  Mr.  Noyes  has  more  leisure  than  you  have,  and  you 
may  ask  him  to  look  out  and  attend  to  this.  I  should  like  a 
pair  so  large  and  fat  that  one  of  them  would  suit  you  for 
beef,  and  the  other  do  to  come  down  here  with  the  large  oxen. 
We  are  all  pretty  well  here  except  Mr.  Morrison's  children, 
two  of  whom  are  sick,  but  not  dangerously.  Do  not  leave 
home  for  a  single  day  so  long  as  there  is  any  uncertainty 
about  the  potatoes.  Your  friend, 

DANIEL  WEPSTER 
JOHJST  TAYLOR. 

[Private  altogether.] 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  write  you  this  as  a  private  letter,  because 
I  wish  to  speak  of  things  which  I  do  not  wish  you  to  men 
tion  or  give  any  hint  of,  even  to  any  of  your  own  family.  It 
is  probable  that  I  shall  leave  my  present  office  icr  good  in 
June,  or  not  later  than  the  fourth  of  July.  "\^  hat  then  re 
mains  of  the  summer  I  shall  spend,  as  usual,  at  Marshfield 
and  Franklin,  and  in  some  short  journeys.  In  the  fall,  when 


304  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

it  gets  too  cold  to  stay  longer  at  Marshfield,it  is  probable  we 
shall  take  some  small  place  in  Boston  for  the  winter.  There 
fore,  I  wish  you  to  be  in  season  in  looking  out  for  some  things. 
1.  Potatoes.  You  are  more  likely  to  raise  a  crop  of  good 
potatoes  than  Porter  Wright.  I  think  the  white  Mercers 
are,  on  the  whole,  the  best  potato  you  can  raise  for  the  table. 
The  red  Mercer  is  not  so  good.  For  stock  and  other  uses 
it  may  be  well  to  use  other  good  sorts,  which  are  greater 
yielders ;  but  I  want  one  hundred  bushels  of  first-rate  white 
Mercers.  If  you  have  not  the  right  seed,  send  for  it  to  Mr. 
Breck,  unless  you  can  get  it  nearer.  Probably  you  have  it. 
Be  careful  on  this  point. 

2.  Beef.     Instead  of  selling  all  our  beef  in  the  summer,  I 
propose  to  keep  four  or  six  of  your  four- year  old  steers  till 
fall,  and  then  feed  them  a  time,  so  that  we  can  have  a  fresh 
bullock  whenever  wanted.     Four-year  old  steers  are  a  very 
good  age  for  fresh  beef. 

3.  Mutton.     If  you   can,  I  wish  you  to  buy  fifteen  or 
twenty  wethers,  now  or  whenever  you  can  do  it  best ;  not 
under  two  years  old,  and  preferring  three.    The  object  is  to 
keep  them  through  the  summer,  and  fatten  a  little  in  the  fall. 

4.  Poultry.     This  is  quite  important.     I  doubt  whether 
your  boys  can  do  much  with  geese  and  ducks  ;  but  I  wish 
them  to  lay  out  for  a  great  flock  of  turkeys  and  chickens,  — 
say  one  hundred  of  each.    If  you  have  not  breeders  enough, 
buy  some  good  ones.     Buckwheat  is  excellent  for  poultry. 
If  you  can  find  a  couple  of   acres  to  sow  with  it,  write 
Porter  Wright  to  send  you  the  seed  and  inform  you  what 
time  to  sow  it. 

5.  Wood.  I  wish  a  good  quantity  of  firewood  —  oak  and 
pine  —  to  be  cut,  corded  up,  immediately  after  planting. 
When  I  see  you  we  will  agree  where  to  cut  it ;  but,  in  the 
mean  time,  you  can  be  looking  out  for  some  good  hands  to 
do  the  work.  You  will  keep  all  these  things  entirely  to 
yourself,  and  think  of  them.  Yours, 

DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 
JOHN  TAYLOR. 

P.  S.  If  there  is  any  of  this  which  you  do  not  understand, 
write  for  explanations. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND   FRANKLIN.        305 

BOSTON,  SUNDAY  MORNING. 

MR.  TAYLOR,  —  You  may  come  down  with  the  cattle  on 
Wednesday,  as  my  time  grows  short.  I  suppose  you  can 
bring  them  directly  to  Boston.  I  will  see  that  somebody  is 
at  Foster's  stable  on  Thursday  morning,  with  directions  that, 
if  the  cattle  are  not  there,  to  go  to  Cambridge  for  them. 
You  will  come  on  to  Marshfield  in  the  cars.  You  may  bring 
down  samples  of  your  potatoes,  and  leave  them  at  the  Re 
vere  House  for  examination  and  trial.  Inquire  for  Mr.  Ste 
vens  or  Mr.  Pierson.  I  send  you  fifteen  dollars  to  pay  expense 
for  bringing  down  the  cattle,  &c.  If  you  prefer  it,  your 
William  may  come  down  with  you,  and  drive  the  cattle  to 
Marshfield,  in  which  case,  I  need  send  nobody.  If  you  like 
this,  you  must  send  me  a  letter  Tuesday  morning  to  Marsh- 
Geld,  which  will  arrive  Wednesday  eve.  If,  when  you  get 
the  cattle  on  board  the  cars,  you  think  they  will  be  quite 
•aafe  with  William,  you  may  take  the  passenger  train  and 
^ome  directly  through  to  Marshfield.  I  would  not  dig  many 
•nore  potatoes  till  the  weather  is  cooler. 

Yours, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  think  I  shall  be  up  on  Tuesday,  first  or 
second  train,  —  perhaps  one  friend  with  me.  "We  will  dine 
at  four  o'clock.  Boil  a  leg  of  mutton  and  a  bit  of  pork,  and 
roast  a  small  turkey.  I  should  like  to  see  the  oxen  and  steers 
which  Mr.  Joseph  Noyes  bought  at  Meredith.  Could  you 
have  them  all  down  to  your  house  Tuesday  afternoon  ? 

D.  WEBSTER. 

On  the  back  of  a  letter  from  John  Taylor,  re 
lating  to  some  farming  proposals,  is  endorsed  the 
following :  — 

BROTHER  FARMER,  —  I  agree  to  all  that  is  written  within, 
with  two  exceptions,  or  three.  (1)  I  should  be  glad  if  you 
could  put  twenty  instead  of  fifteen  loads  of  manure  on  the 

20 


306  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

corn  land.  (2)  Three  acres  for  turnips  is  not  enough ;  you 
should  have  six  acres.  (3)  You  must  have  somewhere,  by 
the  roadside,  one  acre  or  more  of  buckwheat.  D.  W. 

WASHINGTON,  April  14,  1852. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  am  sorry  for  the  loss  of  the  ox,  but  hope 
it  was  produced  by  no  carelessness.  The  Vermont  oxen 
must  go  immediately  to  Marshfield.  I  hope  George  Andrews 
did  not  stop  with  them  at  Franklin  :  he  had  no  instructions 
for  that.  If  he  left  them  there,  send  them  down  without 
the  loss  of  a  day.  You  must  buy  a  mate  for  the  living  ox, 
or  put  him  to  fat  and  buy  another  pair.  Your  boys  must  be 
careful  of  such  valuable  cattle.  This  is  the  second  ox  we 
have  lost  by  some  accident,  not  well  explained. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


WASHINGTON,  June  1,  1852. 

JOHN  TAYLOR,  —  By  this  time,  I  suppose,  you  have  com 
mitted  the  greater  part  of  your  grains  to  the  earth,  and  the 
rest  remains  to  the  providential  arrangements  of  the  season. 

"Be  gracious,  Heaven!  for  now  laborious  man 
Has  done  his  part.     Ye  fostering  breezes,  blow! 
Ye  softening  dews,  ye  tender  showers,  descend! 
And  temper  all,  thou  world-reviving  sun, 
Into  the  perfect  year!  " 

D.  W. 


WASHINGTON,  June  14,  1852. 

JOHN  TAYLOR, — I  expect  to  leave  this  place  before  this 
month  is  out,  and  think  I  shall  go  to  Elms  Farm  before  I  go 
to  Marshfield.  I  wish  you  immediately  to  employ  a  proper 
band  to  put  the  boat  in  order.  Let  her  be  thoroughly  re 
paired,  with  new  timbers  and  sides  if  necessary,  so  that  she 
may  be  perfectly  safe,  strong,  and  tight.  See  that  she  has 
good  oars  and  a  paddle  and  is  well  painted.  Let  the  perch 
in  Lake  Como  know  that  Mr.  Blatchford  is  coming. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND  FRANKLIN.       307 

NEW  YORK,  July  8,  1852. 

Jonx  TAYLOR,  —  I  received  Mr.  No  yes's  letter  yesterday, 
and  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  hear  of  your  accident.  I  had 
no  idea  the  bull  was  so  vicious.  It  is  well  he  did  not  kill 
you.  Mr.  Lanman  says  he  means  to  take  the  law  on  him. 
I  expect  to  be  in  Boston  to-night,  and  in  Franklin  some 
time  on  Monday.  As  you  are  disabled,  you  must  have  your 
long  scythe  ready  for  me.  Mr.  Lanman  will  go  with  me. 
He  will  supply  us  with  fish  from  Lake  Como.  We  shall 
take  Monica  along  to  cook  them.  Get  Miss  Tandy  or 
some  one  else  to  put  the  house  in  order.  Mrs.  Webster  will 
go  to  Marshfield.  I  hope  to  find  my  mother's  garden  look 
ing  well.  Be  of  good  cheer  ! 

WEBSTER. 


WASHINGTON,  Aug.  18,  1852. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  15th,  and 
have  only  time  now  to  say  that  you  may  engage  Mr.  Carr  to 
remove  the  house,  and  the  sooner  the  better. 
Yours  truly, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
JOHN  TAYLOR,  Franklin. 

P.  S.  They  are  flooded  with  rain  at  Marshfield.  Porter 
Wright  cannot  hoe  his  turnips,  the  ground  is  so  wet.  Grass  is 
abundant,  and  all  the  farm  most  beautifully  green.  Keep  the 
Marshfield  men  as  long  as  you  think  proper.  I  shall  proba 
bly  send  two  horses,  to  be  wintered  at  Franklin.  If  you 
think,  in  addition  to  these  and  to  your  present  stock,  you 
have  fodder  enough  for  twelve  or  fifteen  yearling  steers, 
you  may  be  looking  out  for  them,  or  for  ten  or  a  dozen 
good  wethers.  Engage  no  mean  things.  Tell  Mr.  George 
to  go  right  ahead  with  the  poultry  yard.  D.  W. 

MARSHFIELD,  Sept.  13,  1852. 

JOHN  TAYLOR,  —  If  my  health  should  be  good  enough,  I 
hope  to  be  in  Franklin  the  latter  part  of  this  month,  and 
stay  till  the  early  part  of  October.  We  shall  have  many 


808          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

things  to  do,  and  I  hope  you  will  get  your  affairs  out  of  the 
way,  so  that  I  can  have  your  entire  personal  attendance. 
Many  arrangements  are  to  be  made  for  the  farm  where  you 
are,  and  more  for  the  Sawyer  place.  And  then  our  accounts 
are  all  to  be  brought  up  and  settled.  You  must  excuse  your 
self  from  all  cattle-shows;  nor  must  any  of  my  stock  of  any 
kind  be  sent  to  any  cattle-show  this  year.  We  shall  have 
quite  as  much  as  we  can  do  with  our  own  affairs,  as  I  wish 
to  settle  up  everything  at  Franklin  as  far  as  possible.  Mrs. 
Webster  will  go  with  me.  Probably  we  shall  send  up  a 
pair  of  horses,  and  you  must  take  care  that  the  wagons  and 
harnesses  are  all  in  good  order.  As  you  may  have  occasion, 
and  if  you  can  obtain  decent  prices,  you  will  do  well  to  sell 
off  some  cattle,  till  you  bring  your  stock  within  your  means 
for  the  winter.  Your  friend, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Mr.  Colt,  of  New  Jersey,  once  sent  Mr.  Webster 
some  Hungarian  cattle,  among  them  a  bull,  —  a 
small  and  rather  vicious  animal.  John  Taylor  was 
taking  him  out  of  the  barn  one  day,  when  the  bull 
got  away  from  him,  threw  him  down,  and  began 
goring  him.  This  was  seen  by  some  people  who 
were  standing  near,  but  they  did  not  dare  to  lend 
their  aid.  Finally,  John  got  his  fingers  into  the 
bull's  nose,  and  held  on  tightly,  but  found  his 
strength  giving  way ;  when  three  or  four  men 
came  up,  took  the  bull  by  the  horns,  threw  him 
down,  and  tied  his  legs.  John  was  put  under 
the  physician's  care  immediately,  for  his  wounds 
were  serious,  though  not  dangerous.  The  bull 
was  tied  up,  and  after  that  he  was  given  a  wide 
berth.  This  news  went  to  Washington  about  the 
time  Mr.  Webster  was  coming  on,  and  he  said  he 
would  go  and  see  John  Taylor  at  once.  He  did 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.        309 

so ;  found  John  convalescent,  and  finally  asked  him 
what  they  should  do  with  the  bull.  John  did  not 
know. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  if  he  can't  be  man 
aged,  we  shall  have  to  kill  him." 

John  Taylor  replied  :  — 

"  I  have  no  feeling  of  enmity  against  the  bull. 
I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  squire,  I  have  not  a 
very  good  opinion  of  Hungarian  bulls.  This  one 
is  a  dangerous  creature ;  but  he's  not  much 
more  dangerous  than  that  other  Hungarian,  Kos- 
suth,  who  is  going  round  the  country  making 
speeches! " 

The  following  letters  from  Mr.  Webster  to  John 
Taylor  relate  to  these  Hungarian  cattle :  — 

TRENTON,  March  25,  1852. 

JOHX  TAYLOR,  —  I  am  here,  attending  a  court,  and  shall 
return  to  Washington  about  next  Monday.  Mr.  Colt,  of 
this  State,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  has  made  me  a  present 
of  three  imported  Hungarian  cattle,  —  one  bull,  one  cow, 
and  one  yearling  heifer.  He  will  start  them  to-morrow  for 
Boston,  where  they  will  be  by  the  time  you  receive  this  let 
ter  ;  and  I  wish  you  to  go  immediately  down  and  take  them 
to  Franklin  in  the  cars.  Mr.  Colt  does  not  like  Kossuth, 
and  requests  that  the  bull  shall  not  be  called  by  that  name. 
You  may  call  him  "  Saint  Stephen."  I  do  not  propose  to 
keep  these  Hungarian  cattle  on  your  farm,  to  mix  with  your 
stock.  We  will  find  room  for  them  in  due  time  on  the  Saw 
yer  place,  or  elsewhere.  I  enclose  you  a  check  for  thirty 
dollars.  When  you  have  seen  the  cattle,  write  me  and  tell 
me  how  you  like  them.  If  Southern  corn  is  cheap  in  Boston, 
you  may  get  as  much  as  you  will  want  at  Mr.  Otis  Munroe's, 
Commercial  Street.  If  you  think  it  better  to  buy  country 
corn,  you  may  do  so,  and  I  will  send  you  the  money.  It 


310  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

seems  time  that  Dr.  Knight  should  be  paid  something  for 
his  kind  professional  services  to  me  last  fall.  Please  speak 
to  him  on  that  subject ;  ask  him  to  let  me  know  what  will 
be  agreeable.  He  did  me  great  good.  Tell  Mr.  Horace 
Noyes  that  when  I  get  to  Washington  I  shall  send  him  a 
check  for  Captain  Sawyer,  and  write  him  also  respecting  the 
Sawyer  place.  I  hope  you  are  all  well.  Take  good  care  of 
"  Saint  Stephen  "  and  his  two  females. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


WASHINGTON,  April  10,  1852. 

JOHN  TAYLOR,  —  I  am  glad  the  Hungarian  cattle  arrived 
safe,  and  that  you  liked  them  so  well.  I  wish  you  to  take 
the  very  best  care  of  them,  and  keep  them  where  they  cannot 
be  hurt.  What  I  shall  do  with  "  Saint  Stephen  "  I  cannot 
yet  tell.  He  has  cost  a  mint  of  money ;  and,  unless  the 
farmers  in  your  neighborhood,  and  a  good  many  of  them, 
shall  be  willing,  I  shall  send  him  to  some  part  of  the  country 
where  the  people  are  more  willing  to  be  at  some  expense  for 
the  introduction  of  a  new  breed  of  cattle,  —  perhaps  to  the 
western  part  of  New  York.  I  shall  write  you  again  soon. 
The  weather  here  is  clear,  but  the  mornings  quite  cold. 
You  will  buy  whatever  hay  and  corn  you  want  to  keep  the 
cattle  well.  The  great  oxen  should  have  meal,  and  be  kept 
till  there  is  a  good  bite  of  grass  for  them  in  the  great  pas 
ture.  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  the  Stevens  oxen  ? 
Having  the  Marston  oxen,  and  the  black  and  red,  and  a  pair 
of  likely  four  or  five  year  old  steers,  I  presume  they  will  be 
team  enough.  Let  me  know  your  ideas.  ...  I  shall  see 
you  before  planting. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Mr.  Webster,  on  one  occasion,  when  lie  began 
housekeeping  at  Washington,  applied  at  an  intelli 
gence  office  for  servants,  and  among  others  for  a 
cook.  The  office  sent  to  him  Monica  McCarty. 
She  was  rather  young,  probably  not  more  than 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND  FRANKLIN.       311 

twenty,  and  a  professional  cook.  She  was  a  slave 
of  the  late  Judge  C.,  then  of  the  Circuit  Court. 
It  was  usual  for  owners  of  slaves  to  hire  them  out, 
precisely  as  they  would  their  oxen  and  horses,  to 
do  service.  Mrs.  Webster  wras  pleased  with  Monica. 
She  was  a  good  cook,  and  an  excellent  servant ; 
and  the  family  became  interested  in  her.  Judge 
C,  proposed  to  sell  Monica  to  Mr.  Webster ;  but  he 
was  shocked  at  such  an  idea.  He  told  the  judge 
that  he  would  not  for  any  consideration  on  earth 
ever  be  the  owner  of  a  human  being ;  that  the  very 
thought  of  such  a  thing  pained  him.  But  he  said 
he  should  like  very  much  to  procure  by  purchase 
Monica's  freedom,  and  then  employ  her  as  a  ser 
vant  to  work  it  out.  Judge  C.,  who  himself  was  a 
humane  man,  and  who  had  no  surplus  of  wealth, 
said  he  thought  Monica  was  worth  a  thousand  dol 
lars,  but  he  would  sell  her  freedom  to  Mr.  Webster 
for  six  hundred.  Mr.  Webster  told  Judge  C.  that, 
if  he  would  give  him  an  opportunity  for  easy  pay 
ment,  he  w^ould  pay  him  a  hundred  dollars  down, 
give  him  a  note  for  five  hundred  dollars,  and  pay 
the  note  in  instalments.  Judge  C.  acceded  to  this 
proposition,  and  Mr.  Webster  carried  and  put  upon 
record  the  papers  making  Monica  a  free  woman. 
He  then  told  her  that  he  would  charge  her  with 
the  money  and  credit  her  liberally  for  her  wages, 
giving  her  in  the  mean  time  enough  for  her  sup 
port  ;  but  she  must  be  his  debtor  for  the  amount, 
because  he  was  a  poor  man  himself,  and  could  not 
afford  to  contribute  the  whole  of  it.  She  proved 
to  be  every  thing  that  he  anticipated,  a  most  faith- 


312  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

ful  servant  and  excellent  cook.  After  Mr.  Web 
ster's  death,  Monica  told  me  that  he  always  paid 
wages  to  her  without  any  reference  to  the  money 
that  he  had  paid  for  her  freedom;  that  she  had 
always  had  full  wages,  and  that  she  had  never  had 
to  spend  a  dollar  for  clothes,  Mrs.  Webster,  by 
presents  and  otherwise,  furnishing  her  with  them : 
so  that  at  Mr.  Webster's  death  she  had  about  two 
thousand  dollars  in  the  savings'  bank.  Monica's 
devotion  to  Mr.  Webster,  and  her  affection  for  him, 
were  very  remarkable.  A  single  fact  will  illustrate 
the  pride  she  had  in  his  service. 

General  Pierce,  who  was  elected  President  shortly 
after  Mr.  Webster's  death,  knowing  that  he  had 
this  famous  cook,  and  supposing  that  Mrs.  Webster 
would  not  wish  to  keep  her,  applied  to  me  to  know 
if  I  thought  he  could  get  Monica  to  superintend  the 
kitchen  of  the  White  House. 

I  told  him  I  would  speak  to  her,  and  see  what 
she  said  ;  which  I  did. 

"  I  cook  for  General  Pierce  ? "  she  replied  : 
"  No,  to  be  sure,  I  won't.  After  I  have  been'  Mr. 
Webster's  cook,  I  never  will  be  General  Pierce's. 
I'll  come  and  cook  for  you,  Mr.  Harvey,  but  I 
wouldn't  cook  for  General  Pierce." 

On  the  night  on  which  Mr.  Webster  died,  Monica 
was  in  his  room ;  and  I  think  I  never  witnessed 
grief  more  marked  and  deep  than  hers,  so  much 
so  that  she  was  almost  beside  herself.  She  went 
up  to  Dr.  Warren,  when  Mr.  Webster  appeared  to 
be  suffering  a  great  deal,  and  said  :  — 

"  You  are  a  doctor,  and  you  have  no  right  to  let 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD   AND  FRANKLIN.       313 

him  suffer  so ;  can't  you  give  him  something  to 
keep  him  from  such  pain  ?  " 

The  next  day  she  said  :  — 

"  Oh,  he  was  the  best  friend,  and  the  only  real 
friend,  I  ever  had  ;  oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Monica  was  a  very  devoted  Methodist.  In  Wash 
ington,  she  always  attended  the  Methodist  church 
half  a  day  each  Sunday.  Mrs.  Webster  had  taught 
her  to  read,  and  her  memory  was  pretty  good  :  she 
could  repeat  almost  the  whole  of  Watts's  Hymns. 
Mrs.  Webster  always  made  it  a  point  on  Sabbath 
evening  to  take  Monica  to  her  room  and  read  to 
her  from  the  New  Testament,  and  from  other  re 
ligious  books ;  for  which  she  was  very  grateful. 

Monica  returned  to  Washington,  where  she  was 
recently  living,  and  perhaps  still  is,  at  a  very  ad 
vanced  age. 

In  connection  with  this  story  of  Monica,  I  may 
speak  of  another  slave  whose  freedom  Mr.  Webster 
assisted  to  purchase.  Mrs.  Webster  had  a  female 
servant  who  was  free,  but  who  was  married  to  a  man 
who 'was  a  slave.  His  name  was  Bean.  He  was  a 
valuable  man,  very  competent,  and  Mr.  Webster  had 
suggested  to  him  to  purchase  his  freedom  from  his 
owners,  who  were  merchants  in  Alexandria,  and 
members  of  a  large  forwarding  house.  They  told 
him  that  he  might  have  his  freedom  for  fifteen 
hundred  dollars,  and  that  he  might  go  wherever 
he  pleased  and  earn  it,  and  bring  it  to  them  from 
time  to  time.  Whenever  he  should  bring  them 
fifteen  hundred  dollars,  they  said,  they  would  give 
him  his  freedom  papers.  Mr.  Webster  assisted 


314  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Bean  in  drawing  up  an  agreement  with  his  owners ; 
and  his  money,  as  he  earned  it  from  time  to  time, 
was  confided  to  a  wealthy  banker  in  Washington 
who  allowed  him  interest  on  the  money  he  de 
posited,  to  help  make  up  the  amount.  Mr.  Web 
ster  gave  him  his  own  cast-off  clothes,  and  as  Bean 
was  about  the  size  of  Mr.  Webster,  he  could  wear 
his  clothes  very  well.  Bean  worked  bravely,  and 
made  good  progress  in  paying  off  this  mortgage  on 
himself. 

In  1846,  I  think,  I  was  in  Mr.  Webster's  house 
in  Washington,  and  we  had  been  to  church  and  re 
turned.  Before  dinner  Mr.  Webster  said  to  me : 

"  Let's  go  into  the  kitchen  and  see  Monica." 

We  went  down,  and  found  Monica  cooking  the 
dinner.  This  man  Bean  was  also  there  ;  he  had 
come  over  to  see  his  wife.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  Mr.  Webster's,  about  half  worn,  —  a  nice 
suit ;  and  he  looked  as  respectable  as  any  man,  in 
Mr.  Webster's  cast-off  blue.  Mr.  Webster  began 
a  conversation  with  him  in  regard  to  the  finan 
cial  condition  of  his  freedom  fund.  Bean  told  him 
that  he  had  accumulated,  I  think,  all  but  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  (it  was  certainly 
less  than  two  hundred  dollars)  of  the  sum  required 
to  complete  the  purchase  of  his  freedom.  He  was 
still  earning  wages  ;  and  he  added  :  — 

"  I  am  bringing  every  thing  to  bear  upon  that 
result.  I  am  spending  nothing ;  and  I  am  look 
ing  for  the  hour  to  arrive  in  which  I  shall  be  a 
free  man.  I  make  every  corner  cut,  and  where 
I  can't  make  it  cut,  I  make  it  bruise." 


HOME  LIFE:    MARSHFIELD  AND   FRANKLIN.       315 

I  laughed  over  that  expression,  and  it  also  pleased 
Mr.  Webster  very  much.  He  said  to  Bean,  smil 
ing  :  "  Go  on  ;  don't  relax  a  muscle ;  make  every 
corner  cut,  and  where  you  can't  make  it  cut,  make 
it  bruise  ;  and  when  the  month  of  September  ar 
rives  [this,  perhaps,  was  June],  whatever  you  lack 
of  this  two  hundred  dollars  I  will  make  up.  I 
know,"  he  added,  "  that  you  will  not  relax  exer 
tion  in  consequence  of  this  promise  of  mine.  You 
know  that  I  am  poor  myself ;  but  you  shall  be  free 
in  September." 

Bean  was  very  grateful  for  this  promise,  and  he 
did  go  bravely  on.  Mr.  Webster  made  up  the  dif 
ference,  which  was  about  sixty  dollars,  and  Bean 
was  free  in  September.  He  showed  his  gratitude 
to  Mr.  Webster  in  every  way  that  was  possible. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PERSONAL    TRAITS. 

To  the  outer  world,  beyond  the  immediate  cir 
cles  of  his  friends  and  companions,  Daniel  Webster 
seemed  to  be  a  reserved,  reticent,  even  austere 
man.  It  was  only  to  the  familiar  and  trusted  few 
that  he  unbosomed  himself ;  and  they  alone  could 
form  a  full  judgment  of  his  virtues  and  failings. 
He  had  few  intimate  advisers,  and  knew  how  to 
keep  his  own  secrets.  It  was  rarely  that  he  talked 
even  with  his  friends  about  public  men  or  meas 
ures;  rarely  that  he  touched  upon  the  deeper 
problems  (of  which,  nevertheless,  he  thought  much 
and  often)  concerning  the  soul  and  its  destiny.  He 
did  not  "  let  himself  out,"  and  display  his  lighter, 
frolicsome,  and  humorous  moods,  except  in  pres 
ence  of  those  whom  he  had  known  long  and  well, 
and  between  whom  and  himself  there  existed  strong 
mutual  attachment.  Those  who  did  know  him  as 
he  was,  however,  were  aware  that  not  only  was  he 
simple  in  manners,  and  often  boyish  in  spirits ;  not 
only  was  he  hearty,  hospitable,  and  affectionate, 
steadfast  in  his  love  of  his  family  and  his  attach 
ment  to  his  friends,  kind  of  heart  towards  men 
and  towards  animals,  courteous  to  his  adversaries, 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  317 

courageous,  benevolent,  —  but  that  he  was  also  fond 
of  fun,  and  had  a  very  keen  zest  for,  and  sense  of, 
the  humorous. 

Nothing  was  more  touching  and  pleasant  to  see 
than  his  tender  devotion  to  his  family.  His  respect 
and  affection  for  his  parents  have  already  been 
remarked.  Through  life  he  kept  their  revered 
memories  green  in  his  heart.  He  was  always  fond 
of  talking  about  them,  and  often  recalled  incidents 
of  his  childhood  and  youth  in  order  to  illustrate 
their  parental  virtues.  One  of  these  incidents, 
which  he  related  with  a  certain  pride,  may  be 
told.  His  constitution  in  youth  was  very  deli 
cate,  and  it  was  partly  for  this  reason  that  he 
was  sent  to  college  instead  of  being  kept  at  home 
to  work  on  the  farm.  His  head  was  always  large, 
and  he  was  supposed  to  be  threatened  with  the 
rickets.  His  mother  on  one  occasion  took  him  to 
the  sea-side,  to  the  Boar's  Head  at  Hampton  Beach, 
that  he  might  try  the  sea-bathing.  There  were 
no  coaches  in  those  days  in  that  part  of  the  coun 
try  ;  and  his  mother  travelled  to  the  coast  alone, 
on  horseback,  carrying  him  in  her  arms.  As  Mr. 
Webster  told  this,  he  would  exclaim  with  much 
feeling :  — 

"  There  was  a  mother  for  you  !  " 

As  he  matured  in  life  he  grew  stronger :  his  early 
indulgence  in  field  sports  confirmed  his  health, 
and  provided  him.  at  last  with  junusual  physical 
vigor  and.at3:gllg^h.  He  was  a  capital  wrestler^and 
often,  when  his  two  sons  had  become  men  grown, 
he  would  challenge  them  to  wrestle,  and  could 


318          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

very  readily  throw  either  of  them.  The  habit  of 
out-door  recreation  was  continued  throughout  his 
life. 

Fletcher  Webster  said  that  the  first  he  could 
remember  of  his  father  was  when  they  lived  on 
Mount  Vernon  Street,  in  Boston. 

"  I  can  see  him  now  distinctly,"  said  Fletcher, 
"  dressed  in  a  frock  coat,  with  tight  pantaloons,  a 
pair  of  long  blucher  boots  reaching  to  the  knee 
and  adorned  with  a  tassel,  a  bell-crowned  beaver 
hat  set  a  little  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  a  rid 
ing  whip  in  his  hand  as  he  proceeded  to  mount  his 
horse  for  his  morning  ride.  He  drove  out  some  ten 
days  prior  to  his  death,  when  he  went  to  give  some 
directions  for  breaking  up  a  piece  of  greensward, 
and  to  visit  the  tomb,  and  tell  me  where  he  wished 
the  monuments  for  his  wife  and  children  to  be 
placed.  After  indicating  the  position  of  each,  he 
pointed  to  one  other  spot,  and  gave  me  a  look.  I 
understood  him  well,  but  neither  of  us  spoke.  His 
monument  now  stands  upon  that  spot.  It  may  be 
remarked  here  that  he  always  avoided  as  much 
as  possible  any  allusion  to  sad  things  and  unpleas 
ant  occurrences  ;  not  that  he  had  any  superstition, 
such  as  was  common  to  the  ancients,  in  their  disin 
clination  to  use  words  of  ill  omen,  but  from  regard 
to  the  feelings  of  others,  and  a  desire  to  be  and  to 
make  others  cheerful." 

To  the  memory  of  the  lady  who  won  his  earliest 
affection,  who  shared  the  trials  and  the  triumphs 
of  his  early  manhood,  Mr.  Webster  retained  to  the 
end  of  life  an  unfaltering  devotion.  He  could 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  319 

never  speak  of  his  first  wife  without  visible  emo 
tion.  Grace  Fletcher  Webster  was  a  person  of  vq py* 

delicate  organization,  both  physically  and  intellect 
ually;  yet  she  was  energetic,  and  when  occasion 
required,  she  exhibited  a  rare  fortitude.  To  her 

f  |  ^M<aM»aM«BMMMWaBaHaBBMB**1B>iMH*aBM»<MBMMBMBHI'^ 

husband's  welfare  she  was  entirely  devoted.  She 
presided  over  his  household  with  peculiar  grace 
and  dignity,  and  really  seemed  to  liv&ifor  him. 
When  he  was  at  home,  she  sought  his  comfort  and 
pleasure  ;  when  he  was  absent,  her  thoughts,  as  her 
beautiful  letters  testify,  were  of  him  day  and  night. 
Many  of  these  letters  remain  to  tell  us  still  of  her 
gentle  and  winning  traits,  her  kind  and  persuasive 
discourse,  her  generous  and  confiding  love,  and  her 
wise  appreciation  of  her  husband's  talents  and  char 
acter.  She  wrote  to  him  almost  daily.  Each  letter 
reported  the  condition  and  feelings  of  each  child, 
was  a  complete  photograph  of  the  household,  and 
showed  in  every  line  her  steadfast  interest  in  the 
idol  of  her  heart.  These  letters  are  redolent  of 
home,  of  domestic  joys,  of  the  innocent  pursuits 
and  trials  of  children,  of  the  fond  solicitudes  of  a 
loving  mother  and  admiring  wife.  No  one  can 
read  these  transcripts  of  Mrs.  Webster's  daily  life 
without  recalling  Wordsworth's  tribute  to  such  a 
wife :  — 

"  A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 

To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still  and  bright, 
With  something  of  angelic  light." 

Indeed,  she  might  have  sat,  too,  for  that  beau 
tiful  picture  of   the  wife  drawn  by  Washington 


320  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Irving  :  "  As  the  vine  which  has  long  twined  its 
graceful  foliage  about  the  oak,  and  been  lifted  by 
it  into  sunshine,  will,  when  the  hardy  plant  is  rifted 
by  the  thunderbolt,  cling  round  it  with  its  caress 
ing  tendrils,  and  bind  up  its  shattered  boughs ;  so 
it  is  beautifully  ordered  by  Providence  that  woman, 
who  is  the  mere  dependent  and  ornament  of  man 
in  his  happier  hours,  should  be  his  stay  and  solace 
when  smitten  with  sudden  calamity,  winding  her 
self  into  the  rugged  recesses  of  his  nature,  tenderly 
supporting  the  drooping  head  and  binding  up  the 
broken  heart." 

On  one  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Webster's  journeys  to 
Washington,  they  were  detained  at  New  York  by 
the  serious  illness  of  Mrs.  Webster ;  at  which  time 
they  received  the  hospitality  of  Dr.  Cyrus  Perkins, 
one  of  Mr.  Webster's  early  friends.  Here  they 
found  all  the  comforts  of  their  own  fireside,  and  the 
best  of  medical  advice  besides.  Mr.  Webster's  at 
tentions  to  his  wife  during  her  last  illness  were  con 
stant,  and  his  devotion  to  her  slightest  wishes  was 
intense  and  unwearied.  Mrs.  Perkins  said  that  he 
allowed  himself  scarcely  any  rest  day  or  night,  so 
great  was  his  anxiety  for  his  wife's  relief  from  pain. 
He  became  purveyor  at  the  market  and  the  shops 
to  find  little  delicacies  that  would  suit  her  taste.  If 
she  did  not  relish  the  flavor  of  the  tea,  he  begged 
the  privilege  of  purchasing  a  different  kind  for  the 
common  use  of  the  family  while  they  remained 
as  guests  in  it.  When  Mrs.  Webster  was  able  to 
listen,  he  read  to  her  from  her  favorite  authors, 
watching  with  most  affectionate  interest  the  mo- 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  321 

ment  when  her  interest  flagged,  or  her  eye  drooped. 
Then  he  instantly  changed  the  themes,  or  sought 
for  her  some  other  solace.  One  day  she  expressed 
a  wish  for  a  wood  fire  such  as  she  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  have  at  home.  He  replied  at  once, 
"  You  shall  have  it ;  "  and  forthwith  he  sent  for 
a  mason,  removed  the  coal  grate,  and  had  a  wood 
fire  built  in  the  fire-place.  He  did  not  even  stop 
to  consider  that  he  was  altering  the  house  of  an 
other  ;  his  beloved  wife  would  be  cheered  by  it  in 
her  anguish,  and  this  was  enough.  He  watched 
every  article  of  food  prepared  for  the  patient,  and 
insisted  that  the  same  dish  should  not  be  offered 
twice  to  her.  One  morning,  Mrs.  Perkins  ordered 
for  her  a  roasted  quail,  but  Mrs.  Webster  felt  no 
inclination  to  taste  it  then.  It  was  served  up  for 
her  warmed,  at  another  hour  of  the  day.  Mr.  Web 
ster  seemed  quite  hurt  that  this  delicate  morsel 
should  be  presented  after  it  had  been  once  refused. 
He  thought  that  something  new  should  be  set  be 
fore  her  every  time  she  would  consent  to  taste  of 
food. 

Observing  the  nurse  to  be  dispirited  and  sad, 
he  went  out  directly  and  purchased  for  her  a  new 
dress  of  gay  colors  as  a  present,  hoping,  as  he  said, 
that  it  would  make  her  more  cheerful.  He  was 
himself  seized  with  illness  from  over  anxiety  and 
exertion,  in  tending  his  wife ;  and  while  confined 
to  his  own  room,  he  insisted  on  being  informed 
every  hour,  by  day  and  night,  of  the  progress  and 
symptoms  of  Mrs.  Webster's  malady.  All  who  wit 
nessed  his  unwearied  devotion  to  her  welfare  were 

21 


322  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

deeply  impressed  with  the  strength  of  his  affection 
for  her.  The  love  of  youth  seemed  to  have  ac 
quired  new  strength  with  increase  of  years. 

Having  been  permitted  to  copy  a  few  of  these 
letters  for  publication,  I  have  thought  that  they 
would  give  the  reader  a  better  idea  of  Mrs.  Web 
ster's  character  than  any  commentary  could  do. 
Several  of  those  selected  were  written  near  the  time 
of  the  death  of  her  beautiful  little  boy,  Charles,  in 
1824,  and  are  tinged  with  a  mellowed  and  touching 
sadness,  though  the  general  tone  of  her  epistles  was 
joyous  and  hopeful. 

DECEMBER  29,  1824. 

Till  yesterday,  my  dear  husband,  I  have  not,  for  a  long 
time,  had  the  satisfaction  of  writing  to  you.  I  should  not 
again  attempt  it,  with  the  difficulty  I  find  in  holding  the 
pen,  but  for  the  hope  that  it  may  be  some  small  consolation 
to  you. 

Yours  of  Friday  I  received  this  morning.  I  am  well 
aware  how  different  must  now  be  your  feelings  at  the  com 
ing  in  of  the  mail,  now  that  hope  is  dead.  Yes,  my  dear, 
we  were  too  happy,  and  no  doubt  needed  to  be  reminded 
that  treasures  which  we  call  ours  are  but  lent  favors.  From 
the  moment  I  receive  them  I  endeavor  to  consider  them  as 
such ;  but  I  have  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  frail  tenure  of 
this  mortal  life. 

Poor  Eliza  is  indeed  a  ministering  angel  to  me.  None 
but  yourself  could  have  afforded  me  so  much  consolation  ; 
and  yet  I  felt  as  if  it  was  wrong  to  suffer  her  griefs  to  be 
renewed  for  me. 

Every  consolation  that  the  kindness  and  sympathy  of 
friends  can  give  is  mine. 

Heaven  bless  you,  my  dear,  and  comfort  and  sustain  you 
in  every  trial,  and  bring  you  at  the  end  to  the  reward  of  the 
righteous ! 

Prays  your  affectionate  G.  "W. 

Eliza  has  gone. 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  323 

FRIDAY  MORNING,  December  31. 

This,  my  dear  husband,  is  dear  little  Charles's  birthday. 
J&ut  where  is  he  ?  In  his  bed  of  darkness.  Every  thing  looks 
bright  and  gay,  but  nothing  can  bring  joy  to  the  heart  of  a 
mother  who  mourns  the  untimely  death  of  a  beloved  child. 

Three  years  since,  I  sent  you  a  lock  of  hair  with  emotions 
how  different  from  the  present !  I  now  send  a  precious  lit 
tle  lock  which  you  have  often  seen  on  his  beautiful  brow.  I 
think  it  will  be  some  satisfaction  to  look  on  it  once  more. 

I  am  sorry  not  to  send  the  pin,  but  it  is  not  quite  done. 
I  have  often  thought  why  was  the  pin  you  had  made  for  me, 
with  the  little  lock  I  sent  you,  a  mourning  one.  But  it  is  all 
right  now. 

I  am  indebted  to  you  for  two  letters,  my  dear  husband, 
and  it  is  so  difficult  for  me  to  write  I  should  hardly  attempt 
it,  but  for  the  fear  you  will  be  discouraged  with  writing  to 
me.  I  can  only  hold  the  pen  between  my  fingers  ;  my 
thumb  is  still  useless. 

1  am  greatly  obliged  to  all  our  friends  at  Washington 
and  elsewhere  for  their  sympathy  and  kindness.  I  have  re 
ceived  two  letters  from  Portsmouth,  —  one  from  Mrs.  Mason 
and  another  from  Mrs.  P.,  —  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy. 
The  interest  our  friends  there  seem  to  take  in  us  and  in  our 
children  is  grateful,  particularly  at  such  a  time  as  this. 

I  find  it  is  only  six  weeks  since  you  left  us.  I  have  passed 
through  such  painful  scenes,  and  have  had  so  many  weari 
some  days  and  nights,  that  the  time  seems  very  lengthened. 
I  heard  yesterday  that  Eliza  is  sick.  I  feel  very  anxious 
lest  she  has  a  fever.  Mr.  Blake  offered  to  carry  me  to  see 
her,  and  I  am  to  go  at  eleven  o'clock. 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  say  you  are  well.  May  Heaven 
long  continue  the  blessing  !  The  children  are  now  all  well, 
and  all  at  school. 

Yours  ever,  G.  W 


JANUARY  10,  1825. 

I  have  just  received  yours  of  the  5th,  my  dear  husband, 
which  I  am  very  glad  to  see,  as  I  have  had  no  letter  from 


324          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

you  for  two  days,  and  I  feel  uneasy  if  a  longer  time  elapses, 
lest  something  should  be  wrong  with  you.  I  hope  your 
health  is  better  than  it  was  the  last  winter. 

I  thank  you  for  the  enclosed  scrap  of  poetry,  which  I 
found  in  your  letter.  It  is  very  beautiful.  It  makes  me 
think  of  Edward's  reflections  on  dear  little  Charles  :  though 
he  saw  him  committed  to  the  silent  tomb,  he  always  speaks 
of  him  as  alive.  If  any  one  mentions  him  as  dead,  Edward 
says  :  "  No,  he  is  not  dead  ;  he  is  alive  in  a  beautiful  place, 
where  he  has  every  thing  he  wants."  The  poor  little  fellow 
was  at  first  inconsolable.  I  never  saw  a  child  so  affected  at 
such  an  event.  He  wept  till  it  seemed  as  though  his  little 
heart  would  break.  Among  other  things  which  seemed 
to  renew  his  grief,  was  the  little  wagon.  He  said  he  had 
"  no  one  now  to  help  him  drag  the  wagon."  Dr.  W.  was 
here  and  saw  Neddy's  grief,  and  he  tried  to  console  him  by 
describing  the  pleasures  of  the  place  to  which  the  dear  child 
had  gone ;  and  Edward  smiled,  and  said  he  would  not  cry 
any  more.  And  the  idea  that  Charles  has  every  thing  he 
wants  has  perfectly  satisfied  him.  Is  he  not  more  rational 
than  those  who  are  older  ?  I  feel  that  he  is. 

Julia  saw  a  beautiful  pair  of  socks  which  she  wished  to 
buy  for  Mrs.  Jaudon's  baby,  and  I  intended  she  should  have 
had  the  pleasure  ;  but  I  forgot  it,  or  I  could  not  attend  to  it, 
for  I  have  been  reminded. 

We  are  almost  frozen  here.  I  hope  it  is  more  mild  where 
you  are. 

Mrs.  Blake,  I  think,  will  go,  though  she  does  not  say 
much  about  it.  Her  only  difficulty  is  to  know  what  to  do 
with  George.  I  shall  be  too  late  for  the  mail.  Adieu. 

Yours  ever,  G.  W. 


BOSTOX,  Jan.  14,  1827. 

I  was  very  happy,  my  dear  husband,  to  receive  a  short 
letter  from  you  yesterday,  and  was  very  sorry  not  to  answer 
it,  as  I  did  not  write  the  day  before.  I  went  to  see  Mrs. 
Bliss,  and  stayed  some  time,  and  then  good  cousin  Eliza 
came  and  stayed  till  it  was  too  late. 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  325 

Julia  is  sitting  by  me,  and  trying  to  write  with  red  ink ; 
so  I  use  the  same,  as  she  thinks  it  looks  prettier.  She 
desires  me  to  say  it  is  our  birthday.  I  have  seen  too  many 
to  feel  it  a  joyful  anniversary,  though  as  our  dear  little 
daughter's  is  united  with  mine,  it  cannot  fail  of  being  inter 
esting  to  me.  The  dear  little  soul  has  been  saving  every 
cent  of  her  money  for  a  long  time  for  something,  —  no  one 
in  the  world  knew  for  what,  —  counting  it  almost  daily,  to 
see  if  she  had  gained  any  thing.  She  said  she  took  as  much 
pleasure  as  a  miser  in  counting  her  money. 

To-day  the  secret  is  out.  She  wished  to  buy  mother  a 
pair  of  bracelets  to  match  her  pearl  ornaments,  with  ame 
thyst  clasps  !  As  she  was  not  able  to  go  out  herself,  she  con 
fided  it  to  William ;  but  he  persuaded  her  to  wait  till  she 
was  well  enough  to  select  them  herself. 

I  thank  you,  my  dearest  love,  for  a  short  letter  written 
Thursday  evening.  I  rejoice  with  you  on  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Bliss.  He  will  be  a  comfort  to  you,  and  I  am  most  happy 
to  say  their  baby  is  considered  out  of  danger.  I  saw  Mrs. 
B.  yesterday,  and  she  was  in  good  spirits.  I  have  heard 
this  morning  that  it  is  almost  well. 

Cousin  Eliza  is  coming  to  dine  with  us  to-day.  Julia 
sends  much  love,  and  wishes  me  to  say  that  she  hopes  for  a 
letter.  She  thinks  it  is  our  due. 

I  received  with  delight  Mr.  Canning's  speech  in  Parlia 
ment.  He  is  a  jewel  in  the  crown  of  Great  Britain.  Such 
a  mind  is  one  of  Heaven's  best  gifts.  Every  other  earthly 
possession  is  dross  to  it.  You  will  think,  I  fancy,  that  I  am 
in  the  heroic  vein  this  morning.  I  do  feel  inspired,  with  two 
letters  from  you,  and  reading  Mr.  Canning's  speech  ;  but  I 
am,  As  ever,  entirely  yours, 

GRACE  WEBSTER. 


BOSTON,  Jan.  18,  1827. 

I  have  been  reading  this  morning  a  speech  of  yours,  my 
beloved  husband, which  makes  me  hail  this  anniversary  of  your 
birth  with  increased  delight.  May  Heaven  add  blessings 
with  years  ;  and  many,  many  may  it  add  to  a  life  so  valued 


326          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

and  so  valuable !  I  pity  the  man  so  dead  to  every  senti 
ment,  not  only  of  honor  but  honesty,  that  could  need  an 
argument  to  convince  him  of  the  justice  of  the  claim  you 
urged  ;  and  I  blush  for  the  honor  of  our  country  that  there 
should  be  a  majority  of  such  sordid  souls  in  Congress.  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  meddling  with  such  high  mat 
ters.  I  hope  you  will  find  some  relief  from  your  labors  now 
you  have  Mr.  Bliss.  I  am  sorry  he  should  be  made  unhappy 
by  the  illness  of  their  little  boy ;  but  he  will  be  doubly  happy 
to  know  that  it  is  quite  well  again.  Oh,  that  is  happiness 
beyond  expression ! 

We  are  all  well,  though  very  cold.  Our  windows  have 
not  been  free  from  frost  since  night  before  last. 

Julia  wrote  you  a  letter,  which  I  shall  send  with  this. 
She  is  mortified  to  send  it,  but  it  costs  her  a  great  deal  of 
labor  to  write,  and  I  am  not  willing  she  should  go  over  it 
again.  It  is  her  first  attempt  at  writing. 

Aunt  Mary,  Daniel,  and  Julia  join  with  me  in  love.  Daniel 
says,  tell  papa  I  have  read  his  speech.  And  he  as  well  as 
Julia  are  very  decided  in  favor  of  the  bill.  Adieu. 

Yours  ever,  G.  W. 

P.  S.  I  have  said  nothing  of  poor  Neddy.  He  has  not 
yet  returned  from  school.  Here  he  comes,  almost  frozen. 
He  says  his  feet  were  freezing  at  school,  and  Miss  B. 
would  not  let  him  warm  them !  He  wishes  me  to  give  a 
great  deal  of  love  to  papa.  We  have  had  quite  a  discussion 
about  the  seal.  "  Forgive  the  wish  that  would  have  kept 
thee  here  "  is  the  one  Julia  has  chosen  for  hers.  Neddy 
says  that  he  thinks  it  is  a  good  one,  for  we  did  not  want 
papa  to  go  away. 


FRIDAY  MORNING,  11  o'clock,  Dec.  1827. 

The  first  tribute  of  my  heart  is  to  the  God  who  gives  me 
strength  to  write,  and  the  first  of  my  pen  to  you,  my  best 
beloved. 

I  need  not  say  how  much  I  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  safe 
and  rapid  journey;  but  I  do  not  trust  myself  to  say  one 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  327 

word  further  on  the  subject,  so  different  has  Providence 
ordered  things  from  what  I  had  promised  myself.  I  am  as 
comfortable  since  you  left,  but  I  fear  I  do  not  make  much 
progress ;  but  I  beg  you  will  not  be  too  anxious  about  me, 
nor  too  much  enhance  the  value  of  this  poor  life  by  your 
love  for  me. 

Dr.  Post  is  to  be  here  this  morning.  I  have  rather  a 
dread  of  seeing  him.  I  fear  I  am  apt  to  be  depressed  more 
after  a  consultation.  I  can  hardly  tell  why. 

This  is  not  such  a  letter  as  I  would  write  you,  my  dearest 
husband ;  but  such  as  it  is,  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to  re 
ceive  it  from 

Your  devoted  G.  W. 


SATURDAY  MORNING,  10  o'clock. 

I  wrote  you  yesterday,  my  beloved  husband,  a  very  poor 
letter ;  but  I  flatter  myself  that  a  poor  letter  from  me  will 
be  as  acceptable  as  a  good  one  from  another. 

I  am  sorry  you  do  not  get  letters  every  day ;  but  do  not, 
my  dear  love,  be  too  anxious  about  me.  I  felt  in  better 
spirits  after  Dr.  Post  was  here,  though  I  dreaded  to  see  him. 
I  would  not  have  you,  my  dear  husband,  put  yourself  to  the 
hardship  of  returning  so  soon  as  you  talked  of  when  you 
left,  if  I  should  continue  as  comfortable  as  I  am  now,  though 
I  sometimes  feel  the  want  of  your  cheering  presence,  and 
dear  Daniel's  kind  and  affectionate  looks.  But  I  am,  in 
other  respects,  as  well  off  as  I  can  be  anywhere.  I  am 
greatly  obliged  to  all  my  friends  for  their  kindness,  and  for 
all  the  kind  inquiries  of  those  at  Washington.  Please  return 
my  acknowledgments  and  my  love,  particularly  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Agg.  It  was  among  my  most  pleasant  anticipations 
that  I  should  have  a  sincere  and  hearty  welcome  from  them ; 
but  I  endeavor  to  be  perfectly  submissive  to  this  dispensa 
tion  of  Providence.  I  feel  persuaded  it  is  all  for  some  wise 
purpose ;  but  it  is  sometimes  hard  to  say,  "  Not  my  will  but 
Thine  be  done." 

I  fear  you  will  hardly  be  able  to  read  this,  which  I  write 
lying  on  the  sofa. 


328  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

I  hope  your  health  still  continues  good,  and  that  we  shall 
meet  again  under  more  favorable  circumstances  than  we 
parted. 

Farewell,  dearest  and  best.  May  Heaven  bless  and  keep 
you !  prays 

Your  own  affectionate  G.  W. 

.  P.  S.  Julia  desires  much  love.     Neddy  is  upstairs. 


This  was  the  last  letter  she  ever  wrote  to  her 
husband  ;  and  upon  the  back  of  this  and  that  which 
precedes  it  Mr.  Webster  wrote,  "  My  dear  Grace's 
two  last  letters." 

The  following  has  been  related  as  the  manner  in 
which  Mr.  Webster  became  engaged  to  this  loving 
and  devoted  wife.  He  saw  her  first,  when  he  was 
a  young  lawyer  at  Portsmouth,  and  she  was  Miss 
Grace  Fletcher.  At  one  of  his  visits  he  had,  prob 
ably  with  a  view  of  utility  and  enjoyment,  been 
holding  skeins  of  silk  thread  for  her,  when  sud 
denly  he  stopped,  saying, — 

"  Grace,  we  have  been  engaged  in  untying  knots ; 
let  us  see  if  we  can  tie  a  knot  which  will  not  untie 
for  a  life-time." 

He  then  took  a  piece  of  tape,  and,  after  begin 
ning  a  knot  of  a  peculiar  kind,  gave  it  to  her  to 
complete.  This  was  the  ceremony  and  ratification 
of  their  engagement.  And  in  the  little  box  marked 
by  him  with  the  words  "  Precious  Documents,"  con 
taining  the  letters  of  his  early  courtship,  this  unique 
memorial  was  found,  —  the  knot  never  untied. 

The  same  warmth  of  feeling  which  he  exhibited 
towards  his  wife,  extended  to  the  other  members 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  329 

of  liis  family.  He  was  very  affectionate,  tender, 
and  considerate  in  his  home  life. 

Fletcher  Webster  used  to  tell  an  anecdote  which, 
with  others  already  related,  serves  to  illustrate  Mr. 
Webster's  gentle  method  of  treating  his  children. 
Fletcher  observed,  one  rainy  night  wThen  his  father 
was  out,  that  the  front  door  was  locked.  Thinking 
that  if  his  father  should  return  he  would  be  locked 
out,  and  perhaps  be  put  to  much  inconvenience, 
Fletcher  unlocked  the  door.  It  so  happened  that 
on  that  very  night  some  rogue  slipped  into  the  hall, 
and  stripped  the  hat-tree  of  all  the  garments  that 
were  hanging  upon  it. 

"  I  first  heard  of  the  robbery  at  breakfast,"  said 
Fletcher ;  "  and  instantly  remembered  that  I  had 
unfastened  the  door  on  the  previous  evening.  In 
a  faltering  voice  I  told  what  I  had  done.  My 
father  and  mother  exchanged  glances  ;  and  seeing 
me  about  to  burst  into  tears,  father  called  me  to 
him,  took  me  upon  his  knee,  and  after  speaking 
some  gentle  words  of  comfort,  explained  my 
mistake.  He  told  me  why  the  door  should  be 
locked,  and  how  he  could  enter,  though  it  might 
be  fastened." 

A  few  years  before  his  death,  Mr.  Webster  had 
a  double  and  terrible  affliction.  At  the  same  time 
that  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Julia  Webster  Appleton, 
lay  dying  of  consumption,  the  remains  of  his  son 
Edward  were  being  brought  back  from  Mexico, 
where  he  had  lost  his  life  fighting  the  battles  of 
his  country.  Mr.  Webster  was  in  Boston,  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  remains  of  the  son  and  the  last 


330  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

hour  of  the  beloved  daughter.  He  was  very  much 
bowed  down  and  broken  with  grief.  He  had  been 
retained  by  the  Lowell  Railroad  to  go  before  a  com 
mittee  of  the  Legislature  which  was  then  in  session, 
to  procure  some  grant,  or  to  resist  some  measure  di 
rected  against  their  charter.  The  hearing  was  held 
in  the  hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives ;  be 
cause,  when  it  was  known  that  Mr.  Webster  would 
appear  as  counsel,  there  was  always  a  crowd  anx 
ious  to  see  and  hear  him.  He  appeared  before  the 
committee,  with  other  counsel,  to  argue  his  client's 
cause.  When  the  committee  adjourned,  and  he  came 
out,  he  took  my  arm  and  we  walked  down  the  steps 
of  the  State  House,  toward  Mr.  Paige's  house  in 
Summer  Street,  where  he  was  stopping  with  Mrs. 
Webster.  As  we  came  into  Winter  Street  (Mr. 
Apple  ton's  house  was  in  this  street)  he  stopped 
at  his  daughter's  door.  I  saw  that  he  was  very 
much  affected. 

"  Come  in  a  moment,"  said  he,  "  and  see  poor 
Julia ;  I  cannot  pass  the  house  without  stopping, 
although  I  have  been  in  four  times  to-day  already." 

So  I  entered  the  hall. 

"  Go  up,"  he  whispered. 

It  was  a  raw  July  day,  I  remember,  although  the 
sun  shone  brightly ;  it  was  one  of  those  deceitful 
days  peculiar  to  our  climate.  The  door  which  led 
to  Mrs.  Appleton's  room  was  thrown  open;  she 
was  seated  in  front  of  an  open  grate,  surrounded 
by  her  nurses.  The  glass  over  the  mantle  revealed 
her  face  to  me,  although  I  was  behind  her ;  it  was 
more  corpse-like  than  any  living  face  I  had  ever 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  331 

seen.  She  had  her  father's  eyes,  those  great  black 
lustrous  eyes ;  and  the  contrast  with  this  deathly 
expression  was  very  startling.  Mrs.  Appleton  had 
recognized  the  voice  of  her  father,  who  had  re 
mained  downstairs.  I  was  announced,  and  stepped 
forward  and  took  her  hand.  She  merely  grasped 
my  hand  in  return,  and  immediately  spoke  of  her 
father. 

"  Did  he  wear  an  overcoat  to-day  ?  "  said  she. 

I  told  her  that  he  did  not. 

"  Father,  oh,  how  can  you  expose  yourself  so  ? 
Do,  for  my  sake,  put  on  an  overcoat !  It  is  very 
imprudent  in  you  to  be  out  in  such  weather  with 
out  an  overcoat." 

She  seemed  absorbed  in  his  welfare.  He  did  not 
come  into  the  room  ;  and  when  I  shook  her  hand 
and  passed  out,  he  was  waiting  by  the  foot  of  the 
stairs ;  he  was  in  tears,  but  restrained  any  audible 
expression  of  grief. 

As  soon  as  we  had  passed  out  he  took  my  arm, 
and  we  started  down  the  street  to  Mr.  Paige's 
house.  His  whole  expression  was  that  of  the 
deepest  grief.  He  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  a 
terrible  struggle  until  we  got  to  the  door  of  Mr. 
Paige's  house.  We  passed  in,  and  Mr.  Webster 
threw  himself  upon  the  sofa  in  the  parlor.  No 
one  was  there,  and  he  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of 
grief,  such  as  I  do  not  think  I  ever  before  wit 
nessed.  He  wept  and  wept,  as  if  his  heart  would 
break. 

"  That  poor  child,"  said  he,  "  there  she  is  suffer 
ing  and  dying,  and,  just  like  her  mother,  thinking 


332  REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

of  everybody  but  herself.  That  is  what  affects  me 
so,  —  to  see  the  poor  child  dying,  and  not  thinking 
of  herself,  but  of  everybody  else  first.  She  is  the 
best  woman  that  ever  lived  except  her  mother ! 
What  shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Mr.  Webster  was  completely  overcome  by  his 
grief.  He  dropped  asleep  after  a  while,  and  I  left 
him. 

Mr.  Webster  was  very  tenacious  of  early  friend 
ships.  Those  which  he  formed  in  college  he  cher 
ished  with  unabated  interest  till  death.  Letters 
written  at  different  times  in  the  course  of  nearly 
half  a  century  breathe  the  same  spirit  of  devoted 
attachment.  Writing  to  a  friend  of  his  youth,  Mr. 
Bingham,  in  1802,  he  says  :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  expressions  of  friendship 
your  letter  contained,  and  for  the  assurance  that  a 
part  of  your  time  is  devoted  to  me.  At  this  period 
of  our  acquaintance  I  need  not  tell  you  what  pleas 
ure  I  receive  from  your  letters,  nor  with  what  ex 
ultation  my  heart  glows  under  the  impression  that 
our  early  congenial  attachment  will  never  be  sun 
dered.  It  may  look  a  little  like  vanity,  flattery, 
and  puerility ;  but  I  think  I  may  say  that  you  will 
continue  to  occupy  the  parlor  of  my  affections  till 
Madam  comes.  Madam,  you  know,  must  have  the 
parlor ;  but  even  then  you  shall  not  be  cast  off  into 
the  kitchen." 

Such  professions  of  lasting  friendship  are  often 
made  by  the  young,  and  forgotten.  Not  so  with 
Mr.  Webster.  A  letter  from  him  to  the  same  gen 
tleman,  dated  Washington,  Feb.  5,  1849,  shows  the 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  333 

sincerity  with  which  he  wrote  in  1802.     It  is  as 
follows :  — 

WASHINGTON,  Feb.  5,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  CLASSMATE,  ROOM-MATE,  AND  FRIEND,  — 
It  gives  me  very  true  pleasure  to  hear  from  you,  and  to  learn 
that  you  are  well.  Years  have  not  abated  my  affectionate 
regard.  We  have  been  boys  together  and  men  together,  and 
now  are  growing  old  together.  But  you  always  occupy  the 
same  place  in  my  remembrance  and  good  wishes.  You  are 
still  James  Hervey  Bingham,  with  your  old  bass-viol,  with 
"  Laus  Deo  "  painted  upon  it  (I  hope  you  have  got  it  yet)  ; 
and  I  am  the  same  D.  W.  whom  you  have  known  at  Exeter, 
at  Lempster,  at  Captain  John  McClure's,  at  Hanover,  at 
Charlestown,  at  Salisbury,  at  Alstead,  at  Portsmouth,  Clare- 
mont,  Boston,  and  Washington. 

And  now,  my  dear  friend,  after  this  retrospective  glimpse, 
let  me  say  that  I  know  nothing  of  those  who  are  coming 
into  power;  that  I  expect  to  possess  no  particular  influence 
or  association  with  them :  but  that,  if  any  occasion  arises  in 
which  I  can  be  useful  to  you,  you  can  command  my  most 
attentive  services. 

Will  you  please  give  my  love  to  a  lady  whom  I  had  once 
the  honor  of  knowing  as  Miss  Charlotte  Kent  ? 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 
J.  H.  BINGHAM,  Esq. 

Writing  to  another  classmate,  in  1803,  he  says : 
"  Enviable  was  my  fortune,  last  week,  in  having 
Bingham  with  me  three  days.  Seven  years  of  in 
timacy  has  made  him  dear  to  me  ;  and  he  is  like 
a  good  old  penknife,  —  the  longer  you  have  it  the 
better  it  proves,  and  wears  brighter  till  it  wears 
out." 

In  another  letter,  written  in  1804,  to  the  same 
gentleman,  Rev.  Thomas  A.  Merrill,  of  Middlebury, 
Yt.,  he  says  :  — 


334  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  I  am  happy  in  the  opportunity  of  spending  — 
I  mean,  of  enjoying  —  a  half -hour  with  Merrill. 
What  is  this  world  worth  without  the  enjoyment 
of  friendship  and  the  cultivation  of  the  social  feel 
ings  of  the  heart  ?  For  a  life  consumed  in  money- 
making,  fame-seeking,  and  noise-making  I  would 
not  give  more  than  eighteen  pence,  which  is  seven 
teen  pence  half-penny  and  one  farthing  more  than 
it  is  worth.  0  Thomas,  Thomas,  I  wish  I  could 
see  you !  .  .  .  My  heart  is  now  so  full  of  matters 
of  importance  to  be  whispered  into  the  ear  of  a 
trusty  friend,  that  I  think  I  could  pour  them  into 
yours  till  you  would  have  no  room  to  receive 
them." 

The  entire  correspondence  of  these  gentlemen 
evinces  a  mutual  confidence  and  esteem  which  con 
tinued  during  a  long  life. 

Mr.  Webster  loved  those  friends  most  who  sought 
his  society  from  unselfish  motives ;  who  expected 
neither  office  nor  emolument  of  him.  Writing  to 
Mr.  Blatchford,  in  1851,  he  says :  — 

"  It  is  my  fervent  wish  that  your  friendship,  as 
a  source  of  happiness  to  me,  may  continue  to  re 
fresh  and  gladden  my  way  through  all  the  little 
remainder  of  the  path  which  is  yet  to  be  trod 
den  by  me.  Heaven's  blessing  rest  on  you  and 
yours,  and  may  you  see  many,  many  happy  days 
when  all  that  you  know  of  me  shall  be  matter  of 
memory  !  " 

Mr.  Isaac  P.  Davis  used  to  say  that,  during  his 
long  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Webster,  he  never  knew 
him  to  speak  ill  of  anybody ;  nor  would  he  ever 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  335 

allow  scandal  of  others  to  be  spoken  in  Ms  presence. 
He  always  checked  young  people,  if  he  heard  them 
discussing  freely  the  faults  of  others.  To  his  own 
children  he  would  say,  on  such  occasions :  "  Come, 
my  children,  have  you  not  said  enough  ?  "  He 
once  remarked  to  Mr.  Davis:  "In  my  youth,  I 
used  sometimes  to  be  severe  in  my  criticisms  ;  but 
my  feelings  have  now  changed.  I  always  regret 
the  utterance  of  a  harsh  word."  The  desire  to 
obliterate  the  memory  of  bitter  political  controver 
sies  is  nowhere  more  strongly  manifested  than  in 
his  request  to  the  editor  of  his  Works,  to  blot  out 
all  personal  allusions  and  soften  all  harsh  expres 
sions.  This,  too,  was  made  with  special  reference  to 
his  reply  to  one  of  the  most  malignant  attacks  ever 
made  upon  a  public  man.  The  accomplished  scholar 
who  had  that  work  in  charge  (Mr.  Everett)  said  in 
reply  :  "I  will  try  to  soften  the  language  of  that 
speech,  but  it  is  difficult  to  make  a  trip-hammer 
strike  softly."  Mr.  Webster  loved  to  see  old  dis 
putes  adjusted,  and  alienated  friends  reconciled. 
For  this  purpose  his  own  kind  offices  were  often 
tendered  to  others.  This  trait  of  his  character  is 
happily  illustrated  in  the  history  of  two  eminent 
Missourians,  Colonel  Benton  and  John  Wilson,  which 
I  have  already  narrated. 

It  was  Mr.  Webster's  custom  in  debate  to  give  to 
an  opponent  all  the  advantage  which  his  character, 
station,  and  ability  ought  in  reason  to  command. 
He  admitted  the  full  force  of  his  opponent's  argu 
ments,  and  stated  them  in  reply  with  all  fairness  and 
candor,  sometimes  even  more  forcibly  and  clearly 


336  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

than  the  opponent  himself.  He  considered  well  the 
strength  and  munitions  of  the  fortress  before  he 
opened  his  fire.  He  calculated  carefully  the  ene 
my's  advantages,  and  compared  them  with  his  own. 
When  convinced  that  his  own  position  was  impreg 
nable,  he  dismissed  care  and  gave  himself  up  to 
the  "  repose  of  conscious  power."  There  is  a  single 
expression  of  his  which  indicates  a  governing  prin 
ciple  of  his  public  life,  —  one  which  ought  to  be 
engraven  in  letters  of  gold  over  the  entrance  of 
every  court  of  justice,  every  hall  of  legislation,  and 
every  church  in  the  land.  It  is  this  :  "I  war  with 
principles,  and  not  with  men."  The  occasion  on 
which  it  was  uttered  was  this  :  During  the  heated 
controversy  about  nullification,  men  became  per 
sonal  in  their  debates.  Sometimes  violence  was 
threatened  to  individuals.  Many  armed  themselves 
to  repel  an  assault  if  they  should  be  attacked.  Mr. 
Webster  was  prominent  in  the  debate  ;  but,  as  usual, 
discussed  the  avowed  sentiments  of  his  antagonists, 
and  not  their  private  character.  His  son,  anxious 
for  his  father's  safety,  once  inquired  of  him  why  he, 
too,  did  not  arm  himself.  Other  gentlemen  did,  and 
advantage  might  be  taken  of  his  defenceless  condi 
tion.  His  reply  was :  — 

"  My  son,  I  war  with  principles,  and  not  with 
men.  I  give  no  occasion  for  a  personal  assault. 
Besides,"  he  added,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  "  few  men  would  venture  to  assail  me  in 
the  street ;  and,  if  one  should,  he  would  probably 
be  put  to  rest  for  a  fortnight  for  his  temerity." 

If  every  public  speaker  and  writer  would  adopt 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  337 

the  same  rule  of  controversy,  to  "  war  with  princi 
ples  and  not  with  men/'  it  would  almost  regener 
ate  our  politics.  It  would  allay  party  animosities 
and  soften  sectional  prejudices.  Only  in  two  in 
stances  during  his  long  public  life  did  Mr.  "Webster 
call  forth  the  personal  animosity  of  any  opponent. 
Tw7ice  he  was  challenged  to  fight  a  duel  by  John 
Randolph,  of  Roanoke.  The  first  challenge  was  in 
1816,  for  words  spoken  in  debate  by  Mr.  Webster. 
The  quarrel  appears  to  have  been  amicably  adjusted, 
as  a  letter  from  Mr.  Randolph  shows.  Mr.  Webster 
kept  no  copy  of  his  reply  to  the  challenge. 

On  one  occasion,  his  public  life  and  principles  had 
been  severely  handled  by  an  ardent  politician  in 
the  Senate.  The  attack  lasted  for  some  two  hours. 
Mr.  Webster  seemed,  in  the  mean  time,  to  be  writ 
ing  at  his  desk,  taking  notes  and  preparing  for  a 
reply.  After  the  gentleman  had  closed  his  remarks, 
Mr.  Webster  rose  with  great  deliberation  and  dig 
nity.  All  eyes  were  turned  towards  him.  After  a 
telling  silence,  he  began  :  — 

"  Mr.  President,  if  the  Senator  who  has  just 
taken  his  seat  is  not  too  much  fatigued,  I  move 
that  the  Senate  do  now  go  into  an  executive 


session." 


He  made  no  other  reply. 

One  of  the  most  graceful  and  courtly  passages 
in  intellectual  jousting,  which  the  history  of  leg 
islation  records,  is  found  among  the  last  words  of 
debate  which  passed  between  the  two  great  cham 
pions  in  the  contest  between  the  Federal  Govern 
ment  and  South  Carolina,  Mr.  Calhoun  rose  to 

22 


338  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

explain  some  language  of  his  on  which  Mr.  Web 
ster  had  been  commenting. 

"  That  explanation/'  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  brings 
us  back  upon  the  old  field  of  controversy  where 
we  have  already  broken  many  a  lance.  I  am  not 
disposed  to  measure  weapons  again  with  the  Sena 
tor  from  South  Carolina." 

"  Nor  I,"  replied  Mr.  Calhoun,  "  with  the  Senator 
from  Massachusetts." 

Among  the  many  instances  of  Mr.  Webster's 
thorough  kindness  of  heart,  the  following  may  be 
related  :  — 

Many  years  ago,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Joshua 
Bean,  a  classmate  of  Mr.  Webster  at  Dartmouth, 
lived  in  Boston.  His  wife  kept  a  straw-bonnet 
shop  in  Newbury  (now  Washington)  Street,  next 
door  to  the  corner  of  Winter  Street,  and  contrived 
to  support  herself,  her  husband,  an  aged  mother, 
and  one  child.  Mr.  Bean,  though  college-taught 
and  a  very  polite  and  kind-hearted  man,  had  no 
faculty  for  business  of  any  kind,  and  had  failed 
previous  to  his  removing  to  Boston  from  the  coun 
try.  His  creditors  several  times  attached  the  little 
stock  in  trust  of  his  wife,  and  poor  Bean,  in  such 
emergencies,  always  went  to  Mr.  Webster  for  aid ; 
and  the  distinguished  lawyer  and  generous-hearted 
man,  as  often  as  he  came,  took  up  his  case  and 
went  into  court  and  cleared  him.  Mr.  Bean  often 
told  of  this  assistance  with  grateful  pride,  and  of 
Mr.  Webster's  refusal  to  receive  any  pecuniary 
reward  for  his  services. 

A  young  man,  son  of  an  humble  mechanic  of 


PERSONAL   TRAITS  339 

Boston,  desirous  of  admission  to  West  Point  Mili 
tary  Academy,  but  having  no  friends  to  aid  him  in 
a  cause  requiring  very  influential  agency,  once  went 
into  Mr.  Webster's  office  in  Court  Street,  in  Boston, 
introduced  himself,  and  solicited  that  his  name 
might  be  proposed.  Mr.  Webster  interested  him 
self  in  the  matter,  and  obtained  the  appointment. 
The  young  man  rewarded  his  generous  confidence 
by  diligent  study  and  good  conduct ;  stood  with 
the  first  four  in  his  class  through  the  whole  course, 
graduated  with  honor,  received  an  appointment, 
and  afterwards  withdrew  from  the  service  to  act 
as  civil  engineer. 

Mr.  Webster,  on  one  occasion,  went  down  to 
Dennis,  Cape  Cod,  to  recreate  himself  with  gunning 
and  fishing,  and  stopped  over  night  at  a  public 
house.  Rising  very  early  the  next  morning,  in 
his  rambles  he  met  with  a  retired  sea-captain,  and 
asked  him  if  he  knew  of  a  place  where  he  could 
get  boarded.  The  captain  replied  by  directing 
him  to  the  tavern.  Mr.  Webster  rejoined  that  he 
already  boarded  there,  but  wanted  a  more  retired 
place.  The  captain  told  him  that  he  did  not  him 
self  take  boarders,  but  he  might  come  and  get 
breakfast  with  him,  and  take  such  fare  as  they 
had.  They  went  home  together,  became  better 
acquainted,  and  the  result  was  that  Mr.  Webster 
became  a  boarder  in  the  captain's  family,  to  their 
mutual  satisfaction,  —  he  liking  the  terms  of  socia 
bility  on  which  they  stood,  the  table  and  lodgings, 
the  intelligence  of  his  landlord,  who  had  been  a 
merchant  captain  and  was  full  of  information  about 


340  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

foreign  cities;  and  they  admiring  Mr.  Webster's 
good  nature  and  condescension  and  endless  fund  of 
entertainment.  A  few  months  afterwards,  a  va 
cancy  occurring  for  a  lighthouse-keeper  near  by, 
the  distinguished  boarder  procured  it  for  the  cap 
tain,  he  having  intimated  that  he  should  like  such 
an  appointment  to  help  along  his  livelihood  on  the 
shore. 

Mr.  Webster's  pastor  at  Marshfield,  soon  after 
the  statesman's  death,  wrote  as  follows  of  his 
neighborly  kindness  and  generosity :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster  was  a  remarkably  kind  neighbor. 
He  was  free  to  lend  any  thing  that  he  had  upon 
his  mammoth  farm,  that  would  be  useful  to  his 
neighbors.  Though  he  was  at  so  much  expense 
to  introduce  improvements  upon  his  farm,  he  was 
desirous  that  the  neighboring  farmers  should  reap 
all  the  benefit  they  could  from  them.  If  he  had 
any  thing  particularly  nice  or  rare  to  eat,  he  did 
not  forget  to  send  portions  to  the  poor  and  to  his 
neighbors. 

"  As  his  parish  minister  for  years,  the  writer  can 
say  that  Mr.  Webster  was  uncommonly  kind  and 
generous  to  him.  Scarcely  did  I  ever  make  a  pas 
toral  call  upon  him  (and  Mr.  Webster  was  very 
fond  of  having  his  minister  come  to  see  him  at 
any  time,  and  frequently  without  ceremony),  but 
what  he  was  ready  to  impart  golden  stores  from 
his  lips  to  encourage  and  instruct ;  and  also  would 
order  fruit  or  vegetables,  or  something  useful  for 
my  family,  to  be  put  into  my  carriage  to  take 
home. 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  341 

"  Another  mark  of  Mr.  Webster's  thoughtfulness, 
justice,  and  generosity  may  be  mentioned  here : 
that,  among  the  last  acts  of  his  life,  he  ordered  that 
the  parish  at  Marshfield  should  be  settled  with  and 
paid  all  that  was  its  due  ;  and  he  made  a  handsome 
present  beyond  his  tax  and  subscriptions.  Both 
minister  and  parish  remember  this  noble  act,  and 
will  not  cease  to  mourn  the  loss  of  their  best  friend 
and  parishioner,  Daniel  Webster." 

During  the  winter  of  1845,  Mr.  Webster  and 
Mr.  Edward  Curtis  took  the  cars  together  for 
Washington.  Mr.  Webster  was  quite  ill,  and  felt 
the  need  of  repose.  As  the  cars  when  they  en 
tered  were  not  very  much  crowded,  Mr.  Webster 
turned  over  the  back  of  one  of  the  seats,  and, 
wrapping  his  feet  in  a  shawl,  placed  them  on  the 
seat  before  him  and  addressed  himself  to  a  little 
quiet  slumber.  Meanwhile  his  friend  sat  on  the 
seat  in  front  of  him.  The  cars  gradually  filled  up, 
and  all  the  seats  were  occupied.  At  this  moment 
a  stranger  entered,  looking  about  for  a  seat ;  and 
seeing  these  four  places  occupied  by  two  gentle 
men,  he  approached,  and  with  the  air  of  a  traveller 
resolved  to  assert  his  rights,  requested  them  to  make 
room  for  him.  Mr.  Webster  was  already  asleep,  and 
unconscious  that  anybody  was  incommoded  by  his 
rest.  Mr.  Curtis  informed  the  stranger  that  his  friend 
was  ill,  and  greatly  needed  repose ;  and  begged  of 
him  to  find  a  seat  in  another  car,  or  at  least  to  wait 
till  his  fellow-traveller  had  ended  his  nap.  The 
stranger  would  not  listen  to  this  proposal ;  he  had 
paid  for  his  ticket,  he  said,  and  had  a  right  to  any 


342  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

vacant  seat  in  the  car.  Mr.  Curtis  was  loath  to 
disturb  Mr.  Webster,  and  still  remonstrated,  admit 
ting  that  in  ordinary  cases  the  stranger  had  reason 
on  his  side,  but  in  the  present  instance  he  thought 
he  ought  to  yield  his  claim.  The  loud  conversation 
aroused  the  sleeper ;  and,  learning  the  point  in 
dispute,  Mr.  Webster  said :  — 

"  If  I  incommode  any  one,  I  will  make  room  for 
him." 

He  at  once  gave  the  stranger  a  seat,  and  very 
soon  fell  asleep  again.  Presently  the  conductor 
came  along  to  take  the  tickets.  He  at  once 
recognized  Mr.  Webster,  who  had  a  free  pass  on 
all  the  roads,  North  and  South,  except  the  Balti 
more  and  Washington  road,  and  the  Old  Colony 
road.  The  conductor  inquired  of  Mr.  Curtis  in  a 
subdued  tone  about  Mr.  Webster's  health.  Mr. 
Curtis  told  him  that  Mr.  Webster  was  not  well, 
and  greatly  needed  rest ;  but  his  duties  at  Wash 
ington  were  pressing,  and  he  was  obliged  to  take 
the  cars,  though  his  health  required  the  attention 
of  a  physician  and  a  nurse. 

The  conductor  said  that  he  would  presently 
make  arrangements  in  one  of  the  saloons  for  Mr. 
Webster,  where  he  would  be  more  at  his  ease. 

After  the  conductor  had  passed  on,  the  stranger 
spoke  to  Mr.  Curtis  with  evident  anxiety  about 
their  recent  conversation. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  he,  "  to  inquire  if  this  gentle 
man  by  my  side  is  Senator  Webster." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Curtis,  "  that  is  Mr. 
Webster." 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  343 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  the  stranger.  "  How  un 
fortunate  I  am  !  What  a  blunder  I  have  made ! 
I  am  very  sorry  for  my  apparent  discourtesy ; 
it  was  quite  unintentional.  I  must  ask  your  kind 
offices  to  explain  the  matter  to  Mr.  Webster.  Sir, 
I  am  an  Englishman ;  I  have  come  to  this  country 
on  important  business  ;  I  have  just  arrived  at  New 
York,  and  am  now  on  my  way  to  Washington  to 
secure  advice  respecting  my  affairs.  I  have  letters 
to  Mr.  Webster  from  his  friends  in  England.  The 
chief  object  of  my  present  journey  to  the  Capital 
is  to  see  him.  I  hope  you  will  explain  all  this  to 
Mr.  Webster,  as  he  will  certainly  recognize  me 
as  the  intrusive  stranger  who  annoyed  him  upon 
the  road.  I  would  not  for  the  world  have  dis 
turbed  him,  had  I  known  his  real  character  and 
the  delicate  condition  of  his  health." 

Mr.  Curtis  assured  him  that  Mr.  Webster  would 
take  no  offence,  and  that  he  might  be  entirely  at 
rest  on  that  point.  When  the  facts  were  related 
to  Mr.  Webster,  he  only  smiled  at  the  stranger's 
anxiety,  and  observed  that  the  slight  interruption 
of  his  sleep  had  quite  escaped  his  memory. 

Mr.  Webster  had  many  enthusiastic  admirers, 
who  never  saw  his  face,  and  whose  only  knowledge 
of  him  was  derived  from  his  speeches.  Men  who 
have  thus  learned  lessons  of  wisdom  from  the  pages 
where  his  words,  so  fitly  spoken,  were  printed, 
have  often  manifested  an  intense  anxiety  to  see 
the  orator,  to  gaze  upon  his  form  and  face,  to 
watch  his  movements  and  gait,  and  to  listen  with 
eager  curiosity  to  stories  of  his  social  and  domestic 


344  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

life.  I  made  one  of  my  visits  to  Washington  in 
1846.  Mr.  Webster  preceded  me  on  the  road  by 
a  single  day.  I  took  the  boat  from  Philadelphia  to 
Baltimore,  where  I  accidentally  met  a  gentleman 
who  was  on  his  way  to  Washington.  We  entered 
into  conversation.  He  said  :  — 

"I  am  from  Kentucky,  and  have  just  been  North 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  Yesterday,  much  to 
my  gratification,  I  had  a  sight  of  Mr.  Webster.  We 
passed  each  other  on  the  steps  of  the  Astor  House. 
I  had  seen  descriptions  of  his  person,  and  had  formed 
in  my  mind  an  idea  of  the  man.  I  knew  him  the  mo 
ment  my  eyes  fell  upon  him,  for  I  felt  certain  there 
could  be  but  one  man  in  the  country  who  could 
present  such  a  figure,  face,  and  eyes.  I  inquired 
at  the  bar  if  Daniel  Webster  was  stopping  at  that 
house.  I  was  told  that  he  had  just  left  for  Wash 
ington.  1  at  once  followed  his  carriage  to  the  de 
pot  to  see  him  alight,  and  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  observing  him  more  accurately.  I  regretted  that 
I  could  not  leave  in  the  same  train  which  he  took, 
and  resolved  to  see  more  of  him  at  Washington." 

This  gentleman  was  perfectly  enthusiastic  about 
Mr.  Webster.  He  talked  of  nothing  else  while  we 
were  together.  On  oar  arrival  at  the  city,  he  went 
to  Willard's  Hotel,  and  I  to  Mr.  Webster's  house. 
He  gave  me  his  name,  and  requested  me  to  call  on 
him  at  his  lodgings.  Going  to  church  the  next 
day,  Mr.  Webster  said  :  — 

"  Corwin  is  in  the  city,  and  will  take  a  quiet 
dinner  with  me.  Have  you  any  friend  whom  you 
would  like  to  invite  to  occupy  a  seat  with  us  ?  " 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  345 

I  mentioned  my  new  acquaintance,  and  remarked 
that  he  told  me  he  knew  Mr.  Corwin.  "  I  will  send 
a  note  to  Corwin,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  and  ask  him 
about  your  friend." 

He  wrote  with  a  pencil  on  a  card,  "  Do  you  know 
C.  A.,  of  Kentucky  ?  " 

The  servant  took  the  card  to  Mr.  Corwin,  while 
we  waited  in  the  street,  and  brought  back  the  fol 
lowing  reply  :  — 

"  I  know  him  well,  and  a  glorious  good  fellow  he 
is,  too." 

I  thereupon  invited  Mr.  A.  to  dine  at  Mr.  Web 
ster's.  He  came  in  full  dress,  and  seemed  delighted 
with  the  invitation.  Mr.  Webster  was  in  one  of  his 
happiest  moods.  He  talked,  in  monologue,  for  sev 
eral  hours  on  topics  appropriate  to  the  day ;  the 
Sabbath  services  which  we  had  just  attended ; 
the  Bible,  its  poetry,  sublimity,  and  pathos  ;  con 
trasting  the  Hebrew  lyrics  with  the  Odes  of  Anac- 
reon  and  Horace  ;  quoting  passages  from  the  book 
of  Job  and  the  prophets,  and  pointing  out  their 
infinite  superiority  to  Homer  and  Virgil.  The 
stranger  was  completely  fascinated,  and  forgot 
the  hasty  flight  of  the  hours.  At  ten  o'clock  we 
took  our  leave.  I  went  with  Mr.  A.  to  his  hotel. 
After  we  passed  out  of  Mr.  Webster's  house,  he 
threw  up  his  hands  and  shouted  for  very  gladness. 

"  That  exceeds  all  that  I  have  ever  heard,"  said 
he.  "  I  always  thought  Mr.  Webster  had  the  great 
est  intellect  of  the  age,  and  have  read  and  studied 
every  speech  he  has  made.  But  while  I  supposed 
he  stood  in  unapproachable  grandeur  as  an  orator, 


346  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

I  thought  him  cold.  I  supposed  he  had  no  soul ; 
that  his  manners  were  forbidding  and  repulsive. 
But  I  see  my  mistake.  He  excels  more  in  genial 
conversation  than  in  oratory.  His  heart  is  as  great 
as  his  head.  If  every  citizen  in  the  United  States 
could  have  enjoyed  that  interview  to-day,  Webster 
would  be  chosen  President  by  acclamation." 

One  of  Mr.  Webster's  most  prominent  traits  was 
his  fondness  for  old  familiar  scenes,  and  his  kindly 
and  retentive  memory  of  old  acquaintances  and 
friends.  In  the  summer  of  1845  I  went  with  him 
to  Rye  Beach.  He  said  he  wished  to  see  the 
ocean  from  the  point  where  he  first  saw  it  in  his 
life. 

"  I  saw  the  ocean  for  the  first  time  that  I  remem 
ber,"  he  said,  "  from  Rye  Beach.  I  was  then  a  boy, 
at  Exeter  Academy.  I  walked  with  another  lad 
from  Exeter  to  Rye  Beach,  ten  miles,  and  arrived 
just  before  the  sun  was  setting.  I  remember  dis 
tinctly  the  impression  made  upon  me  at  that  time, 
—  a  sensation  such  as  has  never  since  come  to  me, 
much  as  I  have  looked  at,  and  love  to  look  at,  the 
sea.  I  never  have  seen  Rye  Beach  from  that  day 
to  this,  and  I  want  to  see  if  it  looks  as  it  did 
then." 

We  went  down  there,  and  among  other  places 
visited  Exeter  and  Little  Harbor;  and  then  he 
gave  me  an  account  of  the  Wentworths.  Old 
Governor  Benning  Wentworth  was  the  elder,  and 
John  was  his  nephew.  They  held  their  offices 
under  the  Crown,  and  made  Little  Harbor  •  their 
place  of  residence.  The  old  family  mansion  stands 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  347 

there  now,  and  it  has  the  aspect  of  a  sort  of  a  for 
tified  place. 

This  old  Benning  Wentworth  was  an  aristocrat, 
and  John  was  an  ambitious  and  roguish  fellow  who 
was  fond  of  racing  horses.  His  uncle  was  rather 
hard  upon  him,  and  finally  John  went  home  to 
England.  There  he  attended  races  the  greater 
part  of  his  time.  The  Earl  of  Wentworth,  with 
whom  he  was  connected,  was  a  peer  and  statesman 
in  England,  and  a  great  sportsman.  John  Went 
worth  went  to  the  races,  and  bet  heavily  on  the 
Earl  of  Wentworth's  horses.  Without  knowing 
any  thing  of  their  quality,  he  bet  on  the  Earl's 
horses  wherever  they  ran.  The  Earl  heard  of  it, 
and  asked  who  this  young  fellow  was  ?  The  reply 
was  that  he  was  from  America,  bore  the  name  of 
Wentworth,  and  was  the  nephew  of  the  Colonial 
Governor  of  New  Hampshire. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Earl,  "  bring  him  to  me." 
The  Earl  liked  John  so  well,  that  he  took  him 
to  his  house,  and  made  a  favorite  of  him.  The 
result  of  it  was  that  the  governorship  was  taken 
from  the  uncle  and  given  to  John.  A  great  sensa 
tion  was  created  at  the  time  by  the  change.  The 
two  lived  in  the  old  mansion  at  Little  Harbor; 
and  in  it  were  many  family  portraits  and  much 
plate  well  worth  seeing.  A  visit  to  it  brought 
up  many  reminiscences  to  Mr.  Webster.  The  per 
son  then  occupying  it  was  a  Mr.  Gushing,  who 
married  a  daughter  of  Jacob  Sheafe,  he  being  one 
of  the  wealthy  and  influential  men  of  that  name 
and  family  in  Portsmouth,  when  Mr.  Webster  was 


348  EEMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

a  young  man  practising  law  there.  This  daugh 
ter  was  then  a  young  lady,  and  had  not  seen  Mr. 
Webster  for  more  than  thirty  years.  She  was 
now  a  matron,  and  resided  on  the  Wentworth 
estate.  On  the  morning  that  we  were  there  she 
was  away  from  home,  shopping  in  Portsmouth. 
The  servant  gave  us  permission  to  look  about  the 
house  as  we  waited,  and  we  examined  with  con 
siderable  interest  the  family  portraits  which  hung 
about  the  walls.  In  one  of  the  rooms  was  a  portrait 
of  Jacob  Sheaf e.  Mr.  Webster  said  :  "  That  is  an 
excellent  likeness  of  old  Jacob  Sheafe,  at  whose 
table  I  often  used  to  dine  when  I  was  in  Ports 
mouth."  When  Mrs.  Gushing  returned,  she  did  not 
recognize  Mr.  Webster  ;  and  she  looked  a  little  sur 
prised  to  see  strangers  there.  She  evidently  had 
not  the  most  remote  suspicion  who  her  guest  was ; 
but  Mr.  Webster  said :  — 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  madam?  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  to  come  in  on  account  of  old  acquain 
tance." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,"  she  replied ;  but 
in  a  way  which  showed  that  she  was  still  in  the 
dark  as  to  who  he  was. 

Mr.  Webster  then  observed  :  — 

"  I  presume  you  don't  recollect  me,  but  I  recol 
lect  you.  I  have  often  dined  at  your  father's  table 
when  I  was  a  resident  of  Portsmouth,  —  then  a 
much  younger  man,  as  you  were  a  younger  woman. 
Would  not  you  remember  Daniel  Webster  ? " 

"  This  is  not  Daniel  Webster  ? "  said  she,  in 
surprise. 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  349 

u  It  is,  what  is  left  of  me,"  replied  he. 

She  took  his  hand  most  warmly ;  said  she  was 
much  honored ;  and,  her  feelings  overcoming  her, 
she  wept  freely.  She  gave  us  a  lunch ;  and,  as  we 
sat  about  the  table,  reminiscences  of  past  events 
gave  rise  to  considerable  conversation. 

"  Mrs.  Gushing,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  when  I  was 
in  Paris,  in  1842,  at  the  French  court,  one  of  the 
first  questions  asked  me  by  Louis  Philippe,  in 
speaking  of  friends  made  by  him  while  in  exile 
in  America,  was  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jacob  Sheafe. 
He  told  me  that  he  was  a  guest  of  your  parents 
when  he  was  friendless  and  penniless  in  this  coun 
try.  There,  in  that  humble  family,  he  found  hos 
pitality  and  kindness.  I  told  him  they  had  long 
been  dead.  After  some  further  conversation,  he 
told  this  anecdote  of  your  mother.  He  said 
that,  on  one  occasion,  at  a  dinner  where  there 
were  numerous  guests  beside  himself,  there  was 
on  the  table  for  dessert  a  large,  rich,  and  rare 
pineapple,'  —  that  being  then  an  uncommon  lux 
ury.  He  said  it  was  near  him  ;  and  as  he  was  a 
sort  of  a  member  of  the  family,  having  been  do 
mesticated  with  them  for  some  time,  he  began  to 
cut  this  pine.  Mrs.  Sheafe  caught  sight  of  him, 
and  cried  out :  '  0  Lord,  Prince,  don't  cut  that ! 
We  did  not  intend  to  have  it  cut ;  it  was  only  put 
on  for  an  ornament ! '  The  King  of  France  told 
me  that  anecdote  of  your  mother,  at  the  same 
time  telling  me  of  the  hospitality  and  kindness 
which  he  received  from  both  your  parents,  and  of 
the  simplicity  and  honesty  which  marked  their 


350          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

manners.  He  said  he  never  found  more  true  and 
hospitable  friends  than  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jacob 
Sheaf  e,  of  Portsmouth." 

Mr.  Webster's  personal  courage  is  well  illustrated 
by  the  following  anecdote.  During  the  violent 
party  excitements  of  1812,  about  the  time  of  the 
declaration  of  war  against  England,  the  press  of 
Mr.  Hanson  —  the  proprietor  of  the  "  Federal 
Republican,"  at  Baltimore  —  was  destroyed  by 
a  mob.  On  the  revival  of  the  paper  in  another 
building,  the  premises  were  again  assaulted,  and 
the  mob  was  fired  upon  by  Mr.  Hanson,  General 
Henry  Lee,  of  the  Revolutionary  army  (father 
of  General  R.  E.  Lee),  General  Lingan,  another 
Revolutionary  officer,  Dr.  Warfield,  an  intimate 
friend  of  Washington,  and  other  Federal  gentle 
men,  who  had  assembled  as  volunteers  to  protect 
the  doomed  press.  The  mob  numbered  two  thou 
sand,  and  the  city  authorities  advised  the  besieged 
party  to  surrender  their  arms  and  to  allow  them 
selves  to  be  locked  up  in  the  city  jail,  to  secure  their 
personal  safety.  They  consented  to  be  so  treated, 
though  they  were  assailed  by  missiles  while  under 
the  escort  of  the  mayor  to  the  jail.  During  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day,  the  mob  again  assem 
bled  about  the  jail,  threatening  the  lives  of  those 
within.  They  soon  broke  open  the  doors  and  cells 
of  the  prison,  and  proceeded  to  beat  the  men  who 
had  been  there  secluded  to  save  them  from  violence. 
The  mob  was  led  by  an  athletic  butcher,  named 
John  Mumma.  General  Lingan  was  killed  by  him 
on  the  spot.  General  Lee  was  wounded,  so  that 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  351 

he  became  a  cripple  for  life,  and  died  six  years 
later  of  his  injuries ;  and  several  of  the  other 
gentlemen  were  left  for  dead  near  the  jail  who 
afterwards  revived.  The  scene  was  terrific,  and 
the  leaders  of  the  mob  were  regarded  as  monsters 
of  cruelty.  The  name  of  John  Mumma  became 
notorious  throughout  the  country;  and  to  those 
who  met  him  his  ferocious  aspect  revealed  his 
brutal  character. 

Some  months  after  this  occurrence,  Mr.  Webster 
and  a  party  of  friends,  being  on  their  way  to  Wash 
ington,  were  delayed  by  the  breaking  down  of  the 
coach  some  fifteen  miles  north  of  Baltimore.  It 
was  evening.  The  driver  had  no  means  at  hand 
of  repairing  the  coach ;  he  therefore  returned  with 
the  horses  to  the  last  station,  to  procure  another 
carriage.  Some  of  the  passengers  went  with  him ; 
others  took  shelter  in  the  nearest  houses.  Mr. 
Webster,  who  was  in  great  haste  to  reach  Wash 
ington  to  attend  a  trial  before  the  Supreme  Court, 
resolved  to  push  on  to  the  nearest  village,  some 
three  miles  ahead,  and  procure  a  private  convey 
ance  to  Baltimore  that  night.  He  at  last  reached 
the  tavern  of  that  village,  and  was  ushered  by 
the  landlord  into  a  small  room  which  opened  into 
the  bar-room,  which  was  crowded  with  people 
engaged  in  loud  and  angry  discussion.  Supper 
was  ordered ;  and  while  it  was  preparing  Mr. 
Webster  sent  for  the  landlord,  to  find  out  whether 
he  could  procure  a  chaise  and  driver  to  take  him 
to  Baltimore.  He  told  the  innkeeper  who  he  was, 
and  why  he  was  in  haste.  The  man  made  some 


352  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

objection  on  account  of  the  darkness  of  the  night 
and  the  lateness  of  the  hour ;  but  finally  said  that 
he  would  try  to  accommodate  him.  He  went  off, 
and  soon  returned  to  say  that  he  had  found  a  man 
who  was  willing  to  take  him  to  Baltimore.  As  the 
landlord  passed  in  and  out,  Mr.  Webster  watched 
the  movements  and  character  of  the  men  in  the 
bar-room.  He  noticed  that  their  leading  speaker 
was  a  tall,  muscular  man,  of  rather  fierce  and  tru 
culent  aspect,  who  seemed  to  take  the  lead  of  the 
conversation  and  to  be  the  oracle  of  the  crowd. 
Mr.  Webster  asked  the  maid-servant  in  attendance 
at  his  supper-table  who  that  man  was. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  with  great  simplicity,  "  don't 
you  know  him  ?  That's  John  Mumma,  the  butcher." 

Mr.  Webster  then  recollected  Mumma's  share  in 
the  Baltimore  riots,  but  gave  himself  no  further 
thought  about  the  man.  As  soon  as  his  hunger 
was  appeased,  he  notified  the  landlord  that  he  de 
sired  to  set  out  for  the  city  forthwith.  The  chaise 
was  immediately  driven  to  the  door,  and  Mr.  Web 
ster  discovered,  by  the  light  of  the  landlord's 
lantern,  that  the  identical  leader  of  the  mob,  John 
Mumma,  was  to  be  his  driver.  It  occurred  to  him 
at  that  moment,  as  he  afterwards  said,  that,  as  this 
man  had  butchered  General  Lingan  for  being  a 
Federalist,  he  might  deem  it  an  act  of  patriotism 
to  dispatch  Mr.  Webster  also.  There  was  no  time 
for  deliberation,  however;  he  had  proceeded  too 
far  to  recede.  Said  he  :  — 

"  I  felt  young  and  strong,  and  thought  that  no 
man  could  easily  put  me  under  the  wheel." 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  353 

The  crowd,  having  learned  the  name  of  the 
stranger,  huddled  round  the  chaise  to  get  a  look 
at  his  face.  Mr.  Webster  sprang  into  the  vehicle, 
followed  by  his  companion.  The  two  drove  for 
three  or  four  miles  at  a  rapid  pace,  without  ex 
changing  a  word.  At  length,  after  entering  a 
dense  grove,  Mumma  drew  in  his  horse  and  came 
to  a  dead  halt.  Turning  to  his  companion,  he 
said :  — 

"  Are  you  Daniel  Webster  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  name,"  replied  Mr.  Webster. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  "  said  the  driver. 

"  I  do,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  are  John  Mum- 
ma,  the  butcher." 

"  You  know  me,  then,"  he  resumed ;  "  and  are 
you  not  afraid  to  drive  over  this  road  alone  with 
me  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Webster.  "  Why 
should  I  fear  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  murderer ;  "  but  I 
think  there  is  not  another  Federalist  in  the  coun 
try  who  would  say  as  much.  I  am  glad  to  see 
you,"  he  added,  "  and  to  free  my  mind  about  those 
Baltimore  riots.  We  who  attacked  the  jail  had  no 
ill-will  against  General  Lingan,  General  Lee,  and 
the  other  men  shut  up  there.  We  were  misled  by 
others.  We  were  told,  out  in  the  country,  that 
the  Republic  was  to  be  ruined  and  betrayed  to  the 
enemy  by  traitors ;  that  a  nest  of  them  had  a  press 
in  Baltimore,  and  were  every  week  publishing 
their  treason  to  the  world,  and  plotting  the  ruin 
of  the  nation.  We  thought  it  would  be  a  good 

23 


354          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

deed  to  destroy  them.  We  went  to  the  city  under 
this  impression.  When  the  crowd  assembled,  all 
seemed  crazy  with  excitement,  and  we  thought  we 
were  doing  the  best  thing  we  could  for  our  coun 
try  in  attacking  those  men  as  we  did." 

Mumma's  story  was  long  and  minute,  and  when 
it  was  finished  they  had  reached  Barnum's  Hotel, 
in  Baltimore.  Mr.  Webster  alighted  in  safety ;  and 
when  he  offered  the  stipulated  fee  to  Mumma,  he 
refused  to  take  it,  saying  that  he  was  glad  of  a 
chance  to  explain  the  part  he  took  in  the  Balti 
more  riots  to  one  of  the  injured  party ;  and,  wheel 
ing  round  his  chaise,  he  rattled  away  over  the 
pavements  on  his  way  home. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PERSONAL  TRAITS.  —  CONTINUED. 

MR.  WEBSTER'S  sense  of  humor  was  keen 

easily  provoked.  He  saw  the  ludicrous  side  of 
tilings,  and  was  quick  to  seize  upon  it  and  make 
the  most  of  it.  Some  anecdotes  may  be  related 
which  serve  to  exhibit  how  largely  this  trait  was 
developed  in  him. 

Fletcher  and  I  once  went  to  New  York  to  meet 
Mr.  Webster ;  and  in  the  cars  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  one  of  those  lanterns  that  have  since  become 
so  common,  through  which  the  conductor  puts  his 
arm,  beneath  the  light,  and  with  which  he  is  thus 
enabled  to  use  both  hands  while  holding  his  own 
light.  I  happened  to  think  of  this  a  few  days  after, 
while  we  were  all  at  dinner  in  New  York,  and  I 
described  the  lantern  to  Mr.  Webster.  He  saw  at 
once  what  it  was,  and  said  :  — 

"  What  a  grand  thing  that  is !  Is  it  not  surpris 
ing  that  it  was  not  invented  before  ?  Fletcher, 
order  two  or  three  of  those,  and  send  them  down  to 
Marshfield.  They  will  be  very  convenient  for  the 
man  to  use  about  the  barn,  when  he  is  called  on  to 
harness  the  horses  in  the  night,  and  so  on.  Get 
two  or  three  of  them  to  send  to  Marshfield." 


356  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

He  turned  to  me  with  rather  a  significant  look, 
and  added  :  — 

"  What  might  a  man  be  said  to  be  doing,  if  he 
went  into  battle  with  one  of  those  lanterns  ?  " 

"  Give  it  up,"  said  I. 

"  Fighting  with  light  arms  !  " 

We  laughed,  and  there  was  a  call  from  the  other 
end  of  the  table  to  know  what  the  joke  was.  This 
was  just  after  Mr.  Webster  had  delivered  his  ad 
dress  before  the  New  York  Historical  Society,  in 
which  he  had  spoken  of  the  lost  books  of  Livy ; 
and  to  the  call  for  the  joke  at  which  we  had  been 
laughing,  he  replied :  — 

"  No ;  it  is  gone.  It  is  like  the  lost  books  of 
Livy,  it  can  never  be  brought  to  light  again, — 
it 's  too  late  !  " 

One  day  I  was  present  at  a  gathering  at  a 
gentleman's  house  in  Boston,  and  stood  leaning 
against  the  mantel,  engaged  in  conversation  with 
another  person.  I  was  commenting  on  one  of 
those  hideous-looking,  white-cravated  engravings 
of  Mr.  Webster  which  was  in  the  room.  He  was 
to  be  present,  but  had  not  been  announced.  As 
we  stood  there  talking,  I  turned  about,  and  there 
was  Mr.  Webster. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  I,  "  we  were  commenting  on  this 
picture,  and  it  does  not  please  us.  How  does  it 
strike  you  ?  " 

"  The  last  time  that  I  went  up  to  New  Hamp 
shire,"  he  replied,  "  before  the  railroad  was  built 
above  Concord,  I  rode  in  a  stage,  with  but  one 
other  passenger,  an  old  gentleman.  I  asked  him 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  357 

where  he  was  from,  and  he  said, '  Salisbury.'  Then 
I  was  interested,  and  tried  to  find  out  his  name. 

"  '  Did  you  know  Mr.  Webster  ? '  I  said. 

"  '  Old  Captain  Eb.  Webster  ?  I  guess  I  did. 
I  knew  him  and  all  his  family.  They  were  my 
neighbors  and  friends ;  and  a  nice  old  man  he 
was.' 

"  '  Did  you  know  him  intimately  ?  ' 

"  '  Very  intimately.  He  had  a  son  who  was  a 
very  extraordinary  man.  Ezekiel  Webster  was 
a  son  of  Captain  Webster,  and  was  the  greatest 
man  New  Hampshire  ever  raised.  I  was  in  the 
Concord  court-house,  where  I  was  a  juryman  at 
the  trial,  when  he  fell  dead.  He  was  arguing  a 
case  very  eloquently,  when  he  suddenly  fell  to 
the  floor.  It  made  much  excitement  among  the 
people.  He  was  a  great  man,  and  there  is  nobody 
left  like  him.  He  was  a  powerful,  noble-looking 
person.  We  were  all  proud  of  Ezekiel  Webster ; 
very  proud  of  him.  We  should  have  sent  him  to 
Congress,  if  he  had  lived/ 

"  '  Had  Captain  Webster  any  other  children  ? ' 

" (  There  were  one  or  two  girls,  but  they  died 
young,  I  believe  ;  and  there  were  one  or  two  other 
sons.' 

"'Do  you  remember  any  thing  about  any  of 
Ezekiel's  brothers  ? ' 

" '  He  had  a  brother,  I  think,  —  a  younger 
brother.' 

" '  What  was  his  name  ?  ' 

"  '  Let  me  see.  Oh,  yes ;  I  think  his  name  was 
Daniel/ 


358  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

"  '  Did  you  ever  see  him  ?  ' 

"  ( I  used  to  see  him  when  he  was  a  boy.' 

"  '  Did  you  know  him  at  all  ?  ' 

"  '  Oh,  yes,  very  well.' 

" <  Well,  is  he  living  ?  ' 

" '  Well,  I  guess  he  is :  I  never  heard  of  his 
dying.  I  never  thought  any  thing  about  it ;  but 
I  believe  he  is  a  lawyer  down  about  Boston  some 
where.' 

" '  Do  you  remember  what  kind  of  a  looking  lad 
he  was  ? ' 

" '  Well,  so  far  as  I  remember,  he  was  rather  a 
starn-looking  young  man.' 

"And/'  said  Mr.  Webster,  "this  is  rather  a 
'  starn  '  looking  portrait !  Such  is  fame." 

On  one  occasion,  in  a  Massachusetts  court,  Mr. 
Webster  and  Mr.  Choate  were  observed  frequently 
interchanging  notes.  The  spectators  supposed,  of 
course,  that  it  was  the  discussion  of  some  legal 
question.  It  turned  out,  however,  that  they  were 
sending  to  each  other  quotations  from  the  English 
poets.  Finally,  Mr.  Webster  sent  an  extract  from 
Cowper,  which  Mr.  Choate  corrected  and  returned, 
intimating  that  there  had  been  a  misquotation. 
Mr.  Webster  repeated  his  first  version,  and  claimed 
that  it  was  right.  A  messenger  was  sent  for 
Cowper's  "  Task  ;  "  the  place  was  found,  and  Mr. 
Webster  saw  that  the  sentiment  was  as  Mr.  Choate 
had  corrected  it.  He  smiled,  and  wrote  with  a  pen 
cil  upon  the  margin  of  the  page  containing  the 
disputed  passage,  "  A  spurious  edition ; "  and  so, 
like  a  judicious  critic,  retreated  with  honor. 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  359 

Mr.  Webster  used  to  tell  the  following  story. 
He  once  had  occasion  to  attend  court  at  Haverhill, 
in  New  Hampshire,  after  his  removal  to  Boston. 
Among  other  early  friends,  he  there  met  an  old  col 
lege  chum  named  Grant,  who  was  a  member  of  the 
Graf  ton  bar  at  that  time.  At  the  hotel  where  the 
lawyers  chiefly  boarded,  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
mirth  and  fun  during  the  evenings.  As  various 
parties  were  joking  each  other,  Mr.  Webster  drew 
a  bow  at  a  venture,  and  in  one  or  two  instances 
made  a  decided  hit.  He  proceeded,  as  he  said,  to 
"  call  out "  Mr.  Grant,  who  was  regarded  as  rather 
a  dull  wit.  As  Mr.  Grant  had  for  the  moment 
become  the  target  of  their  sharpshooting,  Mr.  Web 
ster  went  on  to  say :  — 

"The  first  time  I  ever  met  Grant  was  in  Hano 
ver,  when  I  was  about  to  enter  college.  Grant  had 
just  taken  a  ride  on  horseback,  having  hired  a 
horse  of  one  man  and  borrowed  a  saddle  and  bri 
dle  of  another.  He  had  turned  the  horse  into 
a  pasture,  and,  with  the  bridle  over  his  head  and 
the  saddle  upon  his  back,  was  returning  to  his 
room ;  and  I  thought  the  harness  became  him 
well." 

After  the  merriment  had  subsided,  Grant  re 
plied  :  — 

"  I  remember  the  circumstance  well.  I  was 
returning  home  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  and 
feeling  the  chill  of  an  unusually  dark  shadow  fall 
ing  upon  my  face,  I  turned  to  see  who  was  passing. 
I  noticed  a  tall,  swarthy  native,  as  I  supposed,  with 
straight  hair  and  black  eyes,  who  at  once  inquired 


360  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEK. 

if  I  could  direct  him  to  Moor's  Indian  Charity 
School." 

This  happy  retort  was  enjoyed  by  none  more 
than  by  Mr.  Webster,  and  he  never  forgot  the 
incident.  He  used  to  say  that  this  same  Grant 
was  quite  an  original  in  college.  Grant  found,  at 
one  time,  a  charge  upon  his  term-bill  for  the  use 
of  the  library.  He  called  on  President  Wheelock, 
and  protested  against  the  injustice  of  the  charge, 
as  he  had  never  taken  out  a  single  book.  The 
President  replied  that  the  charge  was  made  to  every 
student,  presuming  that  all  would  choose  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  privilege  of  taking  out  books  ; 
that  if  he  had  neglected  to  do  so,  the  fault  was  his 
own,  as  the  library  had  been  open,  and  he  might 
have  taken  such  books  as  he  wished.  Grant  paid 
the  bill. 

At  the  close  of  the  next  term  he  brought  in  an 
offset  to  the  library  fee,  in  this  wise.  Grant  kept 
in  his  room  certain  articles  for  sale,  such  as  cake 
and  beer,  by  which  he  turned  an  honest  penny. 
He  presented  to  the  President  a  charge  for  cake 
and  beer.  The  astonished  officer  inquired  what 
this  meant,  as  he  had  received  no  such  articles. 
Grant  replied  that  he  kept  them  for  sale ;  that  his 
room  was  open ;  and,  if  any  college  officer  did  not 
avail  himself  of  the  privilege,  it  was  his  own 
fault ! 

Mr.  Webster  always  preferred  to  do  the  carving 
at  his  own  table,  and  in  this  art  he  was  very  skilful. 
When  no  distinguished  guests  were  present,  the 
dinner  hour  was  usually  enlivened  by  a  little  quiet 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  361 

humor,  by  quaint  allusions  to  well-known  events,  or 
by  the  use  of  peculiar  terms  used  in  other  parts  of 
the  country,  but  not  always  understood  by  those 
present.  Besides  his  own  family,  some  young 
friends,  employes  or  agents,  usually  sat  at  his  table 
at  Marshfield.  On  such  occasions,  after  helping 
the  ladies,  he  would  turn  to  some  one  of  the  young 
men  present,  and  with  great  solemnity  ask :  — 

"  Is  your  name  Leathers?" 

By  this,  the  person  addressed  understood  him  to 
ask  if  he  would  be  helped  to  a  portion  of  the  dish. 
The  origin  of  this  singular  form  of  address  was 
this.  Many  years  ago,  a  tribe  of  gypsies  were 
living  in  New  Hampshire,  principally  in  Barring- 
ton  and  the  adjacent  towns.  They  made  excur 
sions  all  over  the  State,  selling  baskets  and  begging ; 
indeed,  begging  was  their  principal  vocation.  A 
remnant  of  the  tribe  still  exists,  and  some  of  their 
descendants  have  come  to  honor.  On  one  occasion, 
a  member  of  this  mendicant  tribe  had  an  opportu 
nity  to  do  a  personal  favor  to  a  rich  trader  in  Bosca- 
wen  named  Dix,  who,  in  requital  for  that  kindness, 
gave  out  word  that  he  would  present  to  every  man 
bearing  the  name  of  Leathers  (which  was  the  name 
of  his  benefactor),  who  should  call  at  his  store  on  a 
certain  day,  a  pound  of  tobacco  and  a  pint  of  rum. 
On  the  day  appointed,  the  Leatherses  mustered  in 
great  force,  and  proved  to  be  a  much  more  numer 
ous  body  than  he  had  expected  to  meet.  After 
distributing  his  donation  to  the  well-known  indi 
viduals  of  the  tribe,  he  became  suspicious  that 
many  of  the  remaining  crowd  had  no  claims  upon 


362  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

his  generosity  by  reason  of  any  relationship  to  the 
Leathers  race.  As  fresh  applicants  for  his  bounty 
came  up,  he  addressed  to  each  in  turn  the  signifi 
cant  question :  — 

"  Is  your  name  Leathers  ?  " 

If  the  applicant  succeeded  in  proving  that  it  was, 
he  received  the  coveted  boon.  This  story  being 
blazed  abroad,  the  question  afterwards  became  a 
by-word  in  that  part  of  the  State.  Mr.  Webster 
used  it  to  put  his  sons  and  young  guests  in  good 
humor,  and  remove  the  stiffness  which  sometimes 
arises  from  the  presence  of  superiors.  Sometimes 
he  merely  indicated  his  query  by  an  inquisitive 
look,  turned  fully  on  the  expectant  guest ;  and,  if 
he  were  a  frequent  visitor  at  Marshfield,  he  often 
replied  before  a  word  was  uttered,  "  Yes,  my  name 
is  Leathers." 

Mr.  Ruggles,  of  New  York,  once  asked  Mr.  Web 
ster  if  he  had  seen  the  junction  of  the  Missouri 
and  the  Mississippi.  Mr.  Webster  replied  :  - 

"  There  is  no  junction.  The  Missouri  seizes  the 
Mississippi,  and  carries  it  captive  to  New  Orleans." 

On  another  occasion,  when  Mr.  Ruggles  was  urg 
ing  upon  Mr.  Webster  the  importance  of  the  Mis 
sissippi  as  an  indissoluble  bond  of  national  union, 
he  spoke  of  it  as  "  the  great  fact  of  this  country." 
Mr.  Webster,  after  a  short  pause,  replied :  — 

"  Sir,  it  may  be  a  great  fact ;  but  let  me  tell 
you,  the  great  chain  of  lakes  is  a  very  broad 
hint  I " 

-*  Mr.  Webster,  talking  one  day  to  John  Trout,  said: 
*<  John,  you  are  an  amphibious  animal."  John, 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  363 

who  by  the  way  was  well  known  for  drawing  an 
exceedingly  long  bow,  asked  what  that  meant. 

"It  means,  John,"  returned  Mr.  Webster,  "an 
animal  that  lies  equally  well  on  land  and  on  water ! " 

Dr.  Danforth  was  a  celebrated  physician,  but 
a  most  intolerably  harsh  man.  Many  of  the  best 
families  employed  him,  on  account  of  his  great 
skill.  He  had  an  only  son  who  was  also  a  physi 
cian,  and  who  inherited  many  of  his  father's  traits. 
They  had  a  bitter  quarrel  at  one  time,  and  had  not 
spoken  to  one  another  for  several  years.  The  son, 
who  lived  in  Dorchester,  committed  suicide.  At 
the  funeral,  the  house  was  crowded  with  the  family 
and  friends ;  and  a  very  near  neighbor  of  the  young 
doctor,  Mr.  T.  K.  Jones,  was  present.  The  weather 
was  warm,  and  as  the  old  doctor  sat  near  Mr.  Jones, 
he  said :  — 

"  It 's  a  warm  day  Mr.  Jones." 

The  latter  being  a  little  deaf,  said  :  — 

"  What  did  you  remark  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  warm  day,"  was  the  reply. 

People  started  a  little,  to  hear  that  commonplace 
remark  at  such  a  solemn  moment ;  and  Mr.  Jones, 
hearing  but  partially,  and  thinking  he  must  be  mis 
taken  in  what  he  did  hear,  leaned  forward,  and  said 
in  an  under-tone  :  — 

"  I  am  very  deaf,  and  did  not  understand  you." 

"  I  said  it  was  as  hot  as  hell ;  do  you  hear  that  ?  " 

Every  hot  day  after  that,  Mr.  Webster  used  to 
speak  of  it  as  "  one  of  Dr.  Danforth's  days." 

In  1850,  soon  after  the  passage  of  the  Com 
promise  bill,  John  Barney,  of  Baltimore,  invited 


364          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

about  thirty  Senators  and  Representatives  to  dine 
at  a  restaurant  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  in  Wash 
ington.  He  had  places  set  for  only  ten  or  twelve ; 
but,  to  his  surprise,  the  whole  thirty  came  ;  and,  to 
add  to  his  discomfiture,  the  night  happened  to  be  a 
disagreeable  one.  Among  others  present  was  Mr 
Webster,  then  Secretary  of  State.  Never  were  to  be 
set  down  to  a  dinner  a  crosser  or  a  hungrier  com 
pany  of  men ;  and  when  at  nine  o'clock  the  thirty 
found  places  for  only  ten  or  twelve  to  sit  at  the 
table,  there  was  a  loud  roar  of  laughter.  Merri 
ment  took  the  place  of  anger.  Cabinet  ministers 
stood  up  and  waited  on  foreign  ministers,  and  U.  S. 
senators,  in  great  glee,  discharged  the  duties  of 
Scipio  and  Sambo.  A  few  glasses  of  champagne 
let  loose  the  tongues  of  all  "  honorable  "  gentle 
men,  and  the  dinner  was  long  and  pleasant,  and 
never  was  a  happier  evening  passed  than  was 
this. 

The  incident  of  the  evening,  or  night  rather,  was 
between  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Foote,  then  Senator 
for  Mississippi.  The  dinner  was  ostensibly  given 
to  Senator  Foote,  who  was  also  the  governor-elect 
of  Mississippi,  and  on  the  eve  of  leaving  Washing 
ton  to  assume  his  gubernatorial  duties  at  Jackson. 
Mr.  Webster  was  commissioned  to  deliver  an  address 
to  the  new  Governor  Foote.  The  orator  took  the 
head  of  the  table,  and  began  a  speech  in  rhyme, 
with  sparkles  of  pure  poetry  in  it,  that  bubbled  up 
and  out  as  if  from  a  Milton  or  a  Byron ;  and  the 
common  rhyme  and  sparkling  poetry  ran  on  from 
him,  it  may  be  a  full  half  hour,  it  may  be  more. 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  365 

Here  was  Daniel  Webster  in  a  new  character,  —  a 
rhyme  builder,  a  poet.  Everybody  was  astonished 
and  delighted.  The  plaudits  were  vociferous ;  and 
Mr.  Webster  would  seize  hold  of  them,  and  other 
temporary  incidents,  and  weave  them  into  his 
rhyme. 

A  pleasant  instance  of  his  kindly  playfulness  is 
afforded  by  the  following  graceful  letter.  It  was 
addressed  to  a  young  lady  who  had  been  spending 
a  social  evening  at  Mr.  Webster's  house,  and  on 
account  of  the  rain  had  substituted  a  borrowed 
hood  for  her  own  bonnet ;  and  the  note  in  question 
was  delivered  with  the  bonnet,  at  the  residence  of 
the  lady,  by  Mr.  Webster,  while  driving  to  his  office 
the  next  morning :  — 

MONDAY  MORNING,  March  4,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  JOSEPHINE,  —  I  fear  you  got  a  wetting  last 
evening,  as  it  rained  fast  soon  after  you  left  our  door ;  and 
I  avail  myself  of  the  return  of  your  bonnet  to  express  the 
wish  that  you  are  well  this  morning,  and  without  cold. 

I  have  demanded  parlance  with  your  bonnet ;  have  asked 
it  how  many  tender  looks  it  has  noticed  to  be  directed  under 
it;  what  soft  words  it  has  heard,  close  to  its  side;  in  what 
instances  an  air  of  triumph  has  caused  it  to  be  tossed ;  and 
whether,  ever,  and  when,  it  has  quivered  from  trembling 
emotions  proceeding  from  below.  But  it  has  proved  itself 
a  faithful  keeper  of  secrets,  and  would  answer  none  of  my 
questions.  It  only  remained  for  me  to  attempt  to  surprise 
it  into  confession,  by  pronouncing  sundry  names  one  after 
another.  It  seemed  quite  unmoved  by  most  of  these,  but 
at  the  apparently  unexpected  mention  of  one,  I  thought  its 
ribbands  decidedly  fluttered ! 

I  gave  it  my  parting  good  wishes,  hoping  that  it  might 
never  cover  an  aching  head,  and  that  the  eyes  which  it 


366          EEMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

protects  from  the  rays  of  the  sun,  may  know  no  tears  but 
of  joy  and  affection. 

Yours,  dear  Josephine,  with  affectionate  regard, 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Of  Mr.  Webster's  daily  habits,  when  free  from 
all  restraints  of  company,  I  think  I  may  say  with 
out  egotism  that  I  know  as  much  as  any  man  ;  for 
I  was  with  him  a  great  deal,  and  of  course  my 
presence  imposed  no  restraint  upon  him.  He  was 
temperate.  He  would  sometimes  take  with  his 
dinner  a  glass  of  wine  or  two,  but  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  drinking  at  other  times.  He  was  very 
regular  in  the  hours  of  his  meals.  He  rose  (par 
ticularly  at  Marshfield)  at  four  o'clock.  He  told 
me  once  that  he  never  let  the  sun  get  the  start  of 
him  ;  and  I  have  myself  heard  him  up  and  talking 
to  the  men  in  the  field,  in  the  summer,  when  I  have 
been  trying  to  catch  a  nap ;  and  then  perhaps 
afterwards  he  would  come  up  into  my  room  and 
pull  the  clothes  off  my  bed,  and  go  through  the 
house,  to  his  sons'  room  and  others,  and  do  the 
same  thing.  His  habit  was  to  rise  in  the  morning 
at  light,  go  to  the  little  office  in  his  garden,  and  be 
gin  his  correspondence.  If  he  had  no  secretary  with 
him,  he  would  write  himself ;  if  he  had,  he  would 
dictate :  so  that  sometimes  you  saw,  when  break 
fast  was  announced,  twenty  letters,  all  franked  and 
sealed  and  ready  to  go  to  the  office. 

"  Now,"  he  would  say,  "  my  day's  work  is  done ; 
I  have  nothing  to  do  but  fish." 

He  had  an  instinctive  sense  of  propriety  in  dress 
as  well  as  language.     He  discriminated  colors  as 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  367 

accurately  as  thoughts,  and  wished  to  see  both  in 
their  appropriate  places.  He  was  particular  about 
the  style  and  quality  of  his  own  apparel,  and  al 
ways  appeared  dressed  to  suit  the  occasion  and  the 
company.  Seeing  his  little  granddaughters  dressed 
in  white,  he  commended  the  taste  that  made  the 
selection,  observing  that  children  should  wear  light 
and  simple  colors,  like  the  flowers  of  early  spring. 

"  In  later  life,"  he  said,  "  we  require  gayer  col 
ors.  In  this  respect  we  follow  Nature,  which 
brings  out  its  brightest  colors  at  the  close  of  the 
year,  and  tinges  the  forest  in  autumn  with  varied 
and  brilliant  hues." 

His  mother's  old  garden  was  always  cultivated 
in  honor  of  its  former  owner.  He  ordered  John 
Taylor  to  keep  it  in  good  condition,  if  it  required 
the  labor  of  an  extra  hand.  Till  death  he  loved 
those  species  of  flowers  which  used  to  bloom  in  his 
mother's  garden.  The  common  carnation  pink 
never  failed  to  be  acceptable  to  him  on  this  ac 
count.  He  always  received  a  bouquet  of  these 
flowers  with  peculiar  gratitude.  At  the  time  of 
his  great  reception  in  Boston,  in  July,  1852,  from 
the  thousands  of  elegant  bouquets  showered  upon 
his  head  as  he  drove  through  the  streets  a  niece 
of  his  selected  a  bunch  of  carnation  pinks,  and  pre 
sented  them  to  him  after  his  arrival  at  the  Revere 
House.  He  kissed  the  hand  of  the  donor,  saying  : 
"  How  fragrant,  how  delightful  are  these  little  flow 
ers,  such  as  bloomed  in  my  mother's  garden  !  "  and 
received  this  little  memorial  of  his  mother's  tastes 
with  evident  emotion.  He  gave  directions  for  the 


368  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

preservation  of  all  the  wreaths,  and  for  the  tran 
scription  of  the  mottoes  attached  to  them  by  the 
donors,  that  he  might  read  them  at  his  leisure. 
He  was  greatly  exhausted  by  the  fatigues  of  the 
day.  This  being  known  to  the  crowd,  with  great 
delicacy  of  feeling  they  all  withdrew  from  the 
house  and  left  him  to  his  repose. 

On  that  day,  a  little  girl  said :  "I  am  certain 
Mr.  Webster  looked  at  me,  and  bowed  and  smiled, 
when  I  threw  the  flowers  into  his  carriage." 

As  I  have  already  said,  he  had  an  enthusiastic 
passion  for  the  sea.  He  did  not  like  small  fresh 
water  ponds,  —  "  martin-boxes,"  as  he  called  them. 
"  I  arn  never  lonely,"  he  once  said,  "  by  the  sea. 
If  you  ever  build  a  house  for  a  summer  retreat,  go 
to  the  sea.  You  will  never  be  lonely  there.  These 
little  martin-boxes,  with  their  trees  and  paths,  are 
nothing.  Go  to  the  sea  for  tranquil  enjoyment." 

It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  Webster  never  suc 
ceeded  in  accumulating  a  large  fortune.  Neither 
his  character  nor  his  tastes  fitted  him  for  this.  It 
was  fortunate  for  his  country  that  he  was  thus  con 
stituted.  Mammon,  like  other  divinities,  brooks  no 
rival ;  he  requires  from  his  worshippers  an  exclu 
sive  devotion.  There  are  several  reasons  why  Mr. 
Webster  did  not  amass  wealth.  He  never  coveted  it 
as  an  end,  but  only  as  a  means  of  doing  good  and  of 
gratifying  his  peculiar  tastes.  This  is  apparent  in 
many  of  his  early  letters.  His  very  indifference  to 
wealth,  moreover,  led  him  to  intrust  the  manage 
ment  of  his  pecuniary  affairs  too  implicitly  to  the 
skill  and  good  faith  of  his  agents.  His  generous 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  369 

and  confiding  nature  prompted  him  not  seldom  to 
lend  his  name  and  influence  to  enrich  others,  while 
embarrassing  his  own  fortunes.  He  was  often  pre 
vailed  upon  to  enlist  with  others  in  enterprises 
which  promised  a  liberal  return  for  outlays ;  but 
in  every  instance  he  was  a  loser,  either  by  the  in- 
competency  or  the  fraud  of  those  whom  he  had 
trusted.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  more  than  one  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  of  his  professional  gains  were 
thus  swallowed  up. 

It  is  very  likely  that  a  different  result  would 
have  followed  in  every  case,  if  he  could  have  given 
personal  attention  to  such  matters ;  but  being  en 
grossed  in  public  and  professional  duties,  his  private 
affairs  were  grievously  neglected.  Moreover,  his 
habitual  liberality  being  known,  he  was  importuned 
for  public  and  private  charities  more  than  most 
men  in  his  position  ;  and  he  was  always  liberal  to 
a  fault.  When,  too,  he  engaged  in  public  life,  he 
sacrificed  the  income  of  his  profession  to  the  pub 
lic  good.  By  an  exclusive  devotion  to  the  law,  he 
could  easily  have  earned  twenty-five  thousand  dol 
lars  a  year,  while  his  income  as  a  Senator  or  Secre 
tary  of  State  would  scarcely  support  his  family  in 
Washington.  He  has  himself  given  his  own  views 
of  his  character  as  a  financier  in  a  letter  which  is 
published  in  part  in  the  "Memorials  of  Daniel 
Webster,"  by  General  Lyman.  It  is  as  follows : 

BOSTON,  Jan.  15,  1849,  Monday,  12  o'clock.  In  C.  Court  United 
States,  Many  v.  Sizer  being  on  trial,  and  Tabero  dicente  in  longum, 
and  another  snow-storm  appearing  to  be  on  the  wing. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,  —  We  are  in  court  yet,  and  so  shall  be 
some  clays  longer.  We  have  the  evidence  in,  and  a  discus- 

24 


370  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Bion  on  the  law,  preliminary  to  our  summing  up,  is  now 
going  on.  I  think  it  will  continue  the  remainder  of  this 
day,  if  it  lasts  no  longer.  Mr.  Choate  will  speak  to-morrow, 
and  I  close  immediately  after.  ...  I  am  afraid  my  luck  is 
always  bad,  and  I  fear  is  always  to  be  so.  [Mr.  Webster 
then  proceeds  to  speak  of  what  he  expects,  and  why  he  fears 
a  disappointment  and  its  consequences.  He  then  adds  :] 
It  will  be  said,  or  may  be  said  hereafter,  Mr.  Webster  was  a 
laborious  man  in  his  profession  and  other  pursuits ;  he  never 
tasted  of  the  bread  of  idleness ;  his  profession  yielded  him, 
at  some  times,  large  amounts  of  income  :  but  he  seems  never 
to  have  aimed  at  accumulation,  and  perhaps  was  not  justly 
sensible  of  the  importance  and  duty  of  preservation.  Riches 
were  never  before  his  eyes  as  a  leading  object  of  regard. 
When  young  and  poor,  he  was  more  earnest  in  struggling  for 
eminence  than  in  efforts  for  making  money  ;  and,  in  after 
life,  reputation,  public  regard,  and  usefulness  in  high  pur 
suits  mainly  engrossed  his  attention.  He  always  said,  also, 
that  he  was  never  destined  to  be  rich  ;  that  no  such  star  pre 
sided  over  his  birth ;  that  he  never  obtained  any  thing  by 
any  attempts  or  efforts  out  of  the  line  of  his  profession  ;  that 
his  friends,  on  several  occasions,  induced  him  to  take  an  in 
terest  in  business  operations ;  that  as  often  as  he  did  so  loss 
resulted,  till  he  used  to  say,  when  spoken  to  on  such  sub 
jects,  "Gentlemen,  if  you  have  any  projects  for  money- 
making,  I  pray  you  keep  me  out  of  them  ;  my  singular 
destiny  mars  every  thing  of  that  sort,  and  would  be  sure  to 
overwhelm  your  own  better  fortunes." 

General  Lyman  adds :  "  Mr.  Webster  was  the 
author  of  that  short  biography  of  most  good  law 
yers,  which  has  been  ascribed  to  other  sources ; 
namely,  that  they  lived  well,  worked  hard,  and  died 
poor." 

In  the  same  letter,  says  General  Lyman,  he  re 
lates  the  following  anecdote  of  himself :  "  Sitting 
one  day  at  the  bar  in  Portsmouth  with  an  elderly 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  371 

member  of  the  bar,  his  friend,  who  enjoyed  with 
sufficient  indulgence  that  part  of  a  lawyer's  lot 
which  consists  '  in  living  well/  Mr.  Webster  made 
an  epitaph  which  would  not  be  unsuitable  :  — 

"  « Natus  consumere  fruges, 

Frugibus  consumptis 

Hie  jacet 

R.  C.   S.'" 

At  the  close  of  the  letter  he  added  the  following 
postscript,  relative  to  the  cause  on  trial :  — 

Half-past  two  o'clock.  Cessat  Taber  ;  Choate  sequitur,  in 
questione  juris,  crastino  die. 

Taber  is  learned,  sharp,  and  dry; 
Choate,  full  of  fancy,  soaring  high: 
Both  lawyers  of  the  best  report, 
True  to  their  clients  and  the  court ; 
What  sorrow  doth  a  Christian  feel, 
Both  should  be  broken  on  a  wheel  f 

It  should  be  said,  to  explain  the  last  line,  that 
the  cause  in  dispute  was  a  question  of  the  infringe 
ment  of  a  patent  for  making  car-wheels. 

George  W.  Xesmith,  of  Franklin,  New  Hamp 
shire,  was  for  many  years  a  valued  and  trusted 
friend  of  Mr.  Webster,  and  used  to  attend  to  many 
of  his  business  matters  about  Elms  Farm.  In  May, 
1846,  Mr.  Webster  received  a  letter  from  a  person 
residing  in  Salisbury,  soliciting  aid  and  professing 
to  be  in  very  needy  circumstances.  He  thereupon 
addressed  to  Mr.  Nesmith  the  following  letter : 

MAT  28,  1846. 

DEAR  SIR,  —  If  you  know  the  writer  of  this  letter,  and 
he  is  both  poor  and  deserving,  you  may  say  to  him  when  you 


372  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

see  him,  that  I  am  just  about  as  poor  as  he  is ;  that  I  have 
worked  more  than  twelve  hours  a  day  for  fifty  years,  on  an 
average  ;  that  I  do  not  know  experimentally  what  wealth 
is,  nor  how  the  bread  of  idleness  tastes :  but  that  I  have 
generally  been  blessed  with  good  health  in  my  person  and 
my  family,  for  which  T  give  thanks  to  Providence ;  also  that 
I  have  compassion  for  such  cases  of  sickness  and  affliction  as 
appear  to  have  visited  him  and  his  family ;  and,  if  you  think 
five  or  six  dollars  would  be  well  bestowed,  please  hand  them 
to  him  on  my  account.  Yours,  &c., 

D.  WEBSTEK. 

Mr.  Nesmith,  upon  inquiry,  found  the  case  to  be 
one  of  real  destitution  and  suffering,  and  bestowed 
the  charity  as  directed,  which  was  received  with 
tears  of  gratitude. 

Mr.  Webster  sometimes  gave  evidence  of  busi 
ness  tact  and  strictness,  which  showed  that,  if  he 
had  given  attention  to  his  financial  affairs,  they 
would  have  been  well  regulated. 

Some  time  in  the  year  1840,  he  purchased  some 
furniture  of  an  upholsterer  in  Boston.  On  his 
return  from  Washington,  after  a  few  months'  ab 
sence,  the  bill  was  presented.  It  was  his  impres 
sion  that  he  had  paid  for  the  articles  at  the  time 
of  their  purchase ;  and  he  asked  the  creditor  to 
call  at  another  time.  The  same  bill  was  regularly 
presented  every  time  Mr.  Webster  returned  to  the 
city.  The  creditor  at  length  became  insolent  in  his 
demands ;  he  complained  because  he  was  compelled 
to  call  so  often  for  a  small  bill,  and  intimated  that 
he  should  not  run  after  a  debtor,  if  he  were  ever 
so  great  a  man,  any  more ;  that  the  law  was  the 
same  for  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and  the 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  373 

poor,  and  he  should  not  be  slow  in  calling  in  its 
aid.  Mr.  Webster  took  all  this  very  quietly,  say 
ing  :  "  Call  on  me,  sir,  to-morrow  at  noon,  and 
your  bill  shall  be  settled."  The  man  replied  that 
he  would  call  at  that  hour,  and  should  expect  his 
money  without  fail.  After  he  had  withdrawn,  Mr. 
Webster  walked  into  the  adjoining  room,  occupied 
by  his  partner,  Mr.  Healy,  and  observed  that  a  man 
had  called  several  times  for  the  payment  of  a  bill 
for  furniture,  "  which/'  said  he,  "  I  have  the  im 
pression  has  already  been  paid  either  by  me  or 
by  yourself.  I  wish,  Mr.  Healy,  you  would  look 
among  my  receipts  for  the  last  two  years,  and 
see  if  you  do  not  find  one  for  this  account."  Mr. 
Healy  examined  the  files  of  receipts  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon ;  and,  on  the  next  morning,  brought 
to  Mr.  Webster  two  receipts  for  the  same  bill  in 
two  successive  years.  "  Lay  them  on  my  table, 
if  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Webster.  The  same  day 
at  noon,  punctual  to  the  minute,  the  injured  cred 
itor  called.  Putting  on  the  air  of  one  whose  pa 
tience  had  been  sorely  tasked,  he  asked  if  Mr. 
Webster  was  ready  to  settle.  Mr.  Healy  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  have  the  door  between  the  two 
offices  open,  that  he  might  witness  the  interview, 
expecting,  as  he  said,  an  explosion.  But  in  that 
he  was  disappointed ;  for  Mr.  Webster,  without 
rising  from  his  seat,  simply  scanned  the  man  for  a 
moment  over  his  shoulder,  and,  holding  out  to  him 
the  two  receipts,  remarked  :  — 

"  The  charges  in  this  bill  I  always  considered 
exorbitant.     I  thought  them  so  when  I  paid  it; 


374  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Mr.  Healy  had  the  same  impression  when  he  paid 
it,  as  my  agent;  and  as  you  already  have  been 
twice  paid,  as  appears  by  these  receipts,  it  strikes 
me  that,  if  a  reasonable  man,  you  ought  to  be 
satisfied." 

The  countenance  of  the  proud  creditor  fell.  He 
left  the  room  without  uttering  a  word.  Mr.  Web 
ster  never  sought  to  recover  back  the  money  which 
he  had  overpaid. 

Mr.  Abbott,  long  Mr.  Webster's  private  secretary, 
has  given  the  following  testimony  to  his  strictness 
in  the  payment  of  his  debts  :  — 

"  From  my  personal  knowledge,  derived  from 
keeping  the  private  accounts  of  Mr.  Webster,  I 
have  some  opportunity  of  knowing.  Not  a  bill 
has  been  presented  for  two  or  more  years  during 
which  I  have  been  with  him  but  has  been  promptly 
paid ;  and  a  few  days  before  he  died  he  called  the 
overseer  of  his  farm,  gave  him  five  hundred  dollars 
to  pay  every  man,  and  sent  for  the  minister  and 
paid  all  that  was  due  him.  So  it  shall  not  be  said 
Daniel  Webster  died  in  debt  to  any  man." 

Mr.  Barney,  of  Baltimore,  who  has  already  been 
referred  to,  gave  the  following  testimony,  a  few 
weeks  after  Mr.  Webster's  death,  at  once  to  his 
indifference  to  money  and  his  sensitiveness  about 
receiving  it  in  any  other  way  than  as  a  legitimate 
reward  of  services  :  — 

"  There  was  no  subject  on  which  this  eminently 
great  and  good  man  was  more  sensitive  ;  and  I  pro 
pose  to  add  one  incident,  illustrative  of  the  refine 
ment  of  feeling  which  characterized  him. 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  375 

"  Dining  with  him  and  Mrs.  Webster  alone,  on 
the  fourth  of  July,  he  being  then  very  feeble,  I 
urged  on  him  to  seek  by  change  of  continent  to 
escape  the  annual  return  of  the  rheum,  or  hay  fe 
ver,  which  attacked  him  periodically  on  the  20th 
of  August,  and  from  which  he  had  been  entirely 
free  when  in  England. 

"  Knowing  that  the  kind  sympathy  and  gener 
ous  affection  of  the  President  would  induce  him  to 
assign  to  Mr.  Webster  any  duty  whereby  his  health 
and  happiness  might  be  promoted,  I  suggested  his 
acceptance  of  the  embassy  to  the  court  of  St. 
James. 

"  He  replied  :  '  Mr.  Abbott  Lawrence  expends 
seventy  thousand  dollars  a  year  in  sustaining  the 
dignity  of  this  position.  I  am  without  means  to 
meet  any  expenditure  beyond  the  salary/ 

"  To  this  I  said :  e  Your  numerous  friends,  who 
earnestly  desire  that  you  should  prolong  your  in 
valuable  life,  will  never  permit  your  individual 
resources  to  be  exhausted ;  and  I  am  authorized 
to  say  that  whatever  funds  are  necessary  will  be 
promptly  supplied.' 

" '  Sir,'  said  he,  with  a  sternness  never  before 
displayed  to  me  in  an  intercourse  of  a  quarter  of 
a  century,  '  I  duly  appreciate  the  kindness  and 
liberality  of  my  friends,  but  I  cannot  consent 
to  be  their  pensioner.  Never  repeat  such  a  sug 
gestion.' 

"  I  still  shudder  at  the  recollection  of  his  indig 
nant  frown. 

"  He  had  fully  realized  the  truth  of  one  of  his 


376  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

own  aphorisms :  '  The  man  who  enters  public  life 
takes  upon  himself  a  vow  of  poverty,  to  the  relig 
ious  observance  of  which  he  is  bound  so  long  as  he 
remains  in  it.'  And  his  poverty  vindicated  his 
integrity." 

Mr.  Webster  liked  to  hear  good  anecdotes, 
whether  humorous,  historical,  or  personal,  and 
always  listened  to  them  with  attentive  interest. 
He  could  appreciate  a  joke  or  a  good  "  point,"  and 
caught  it  very  quickly.  Not  only  was  he  a  good 
listener  to  anecdotes,  but  he  loved  to  tell  them 
himself ;  and  often  beguiled  leisure  hours  by  re 
lating  stories  of  his  boyhood,  of  the  neighbors  and 
"  characters  "  of  his  early  home,  and  incidents  con 
nected  with  his  practice  at  the  bar,  illustrating  the 
traits  of  distinguished  men.  I  gather  here  a  few 
that  he  used  to  tell ;  and  those  who  have  heard 
him  relate  anecdotes  know  how  well  he  did  it. 

There  was  a  lawyer  who  lived  in  his  neighbor 
hood  in  New  Hampshire,  he  said,  who  was  famous 
for  his  skill  in  collecting  debts.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  litigation  in  New  Hampshire  at  that  time, 
and  almost  everybody  was  sued  before  a  debt  was 
paid.  If  a  note  was  given  to  this  lawyer  to  collect, 
he  was  sure  to  get  the  money  from  the  debtor. 
He  snapped  at  that  kind  of  business ;  and  anybody 
who  had  a  note  that  they  could  not  get  in  any  other 
way,  would  go  with  it  to  him.  He  was  out  fish 
ing  one  day  on  a  pond,  when  his  little  craft  was 
wrecked,  and  he  was  drowned.  There  was  great 
consternation  among  his  neighbors,  and  they  went 
to  raking  and  dragging  the  pond  to  find  his  body, 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  377 

working  in  this  way  for  days  without  any  success. 
At  last,  a  queer  wag,  who  had  been  sued  a  good 
many  times  by  this  lawyer,  was  seen  one  morning 
standing  on  the  bank  of  the  pond,  with  a  fishing- 
line  thrown  into  the  water.  Somebody  came  along 
and  asked  him,  — 

"  What  are  you  fishing  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  for .  There  is  a  prom 
issory  note  on  the  end  of  that  line ;  and  I  think, 
dead  or  alive,  if  it  gets  to  his  nose,  he  will  grab  at 
it.  If  this  won't  fetch  him,  nothing  will." 

To  illustrate  the  power  of  character  and  address 
upon  a  rabble,  Mr.  Webster  related  this  anecdote. 
Shays's  rebellion,  so  called,  extended  into  New 
Hampshire  ;  and  the  mob  there,  as  in  Massachu 
setts,  resisted  the  law,  and  would  not  permit  the 
courts  to  sit.  In  some  parts  of  New  Hampshire 
the  mob  was  very  violent.  The  courts  were  afraid 
to  hold  their  sittings  for  fear  of  the  mob,  although 
no  actual  violence  took  place.  The  supreme  court 
of  New  Hampshire  was  composed  of  some  of  the 
ablest  judges  in  New  England,  before  that  time  or 
since.  The  high-sheriff  was  old  General  Sullivan,  of 
Revolutionary  fame.  He  lived  in  Portsmouth,  and 
had  a  high  reputation  for  personal  courage,  which 
he  had  earned  in  the  war ;  and  he  was,  withal, 
a  high-toned,  earnest  Christian.  Being  the  high- 
sheriff,  he  had  charge  of  the  court.  The  question 
was  mooted,  whether  they  should  attempt  to  hold 
a  court  in  Sullivan  County,  where  they  knew  the 
seat  of  this  rebellion  was.  The  judges  were  timid ; 


378  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

and,  although  they  felt  that  it  was  a  great  wrong 
done  to  the  law  and  the  right  for  the  court  to  be 
obliged  to  yield  to  a  mob,  they  felt  that  they  had 
no  means  to  enforce  their  authority.  They  feared 
that  the  civil  posse  at  their  command  could  not 
protect  them.  General  Sullivan  was  consulted,  and 
he  said :  — 

"  We  will  go  and  open  the  court  in  Keene  on 
the  day  when  by  law  it  is  there  to  be  held,  and  I 
will  see  that  every  thing  is  right." 

So  they  prepared  to  set  out.  In  those  days  the 
stage  accommodations  were  not  good,  and  most 
of  the  travelling  by  all  classes  was  done  on  horse 
back.  They  put  their  clothes  in  their  saddle-bags ; 
and  Sullivan,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  judges, 
put  into  his  portmanteau  his  whole  military  suit,  — 
coat,  epaulettes,  and  sword,  —  the  same  that  he 
had  worn  in  the  Revolutionary  War.  His  servant 
took  his  luggage  on  one  horse,  and  he  rode  on  an 
other  ;  and,  in  this  way,  the  sheriff  and  the  j  adges 
started  from  Portsmouth.  They  were  a  day  or  two 
making  the  journey,  and  were  constantly  getting 
reports  from  Keene  as  to  the  sentiments  of  the 
people.  There  seemed  to  be  a  strong  feeling  of 
indignation  and  a  determination  to  resist  the  hold 
ing  of  the  court.  The  people  were  apparently  re 
solved  that  the  Rebellion  cases  should  not  be  tried  ; 
and  this  sentiment  seemed  to  be  unanimous.  As 
the  judicial  party  approached  Keene  they  stopped 
to  dine,  and  were  told  that  they  could  never  get 
to  the  court-house ;  or,  if  they  did,  they  never 
would  be  allowed  to  hold  the  court :  and  the 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  379 

judges  were  half  inclined  to  turn  back.  But  Gen 
eral  Sullivan  said :  — 

"  Be  firm ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  be  firm." 

When  they  got  within  about  four  miles  of  Keene, 
they  began  to  receive  reports  directly  from  that 
place.  Persons  who  had  been  there  met  the  judges 
with  the  news,  that  hundreds  of  exasperated  people 
were  gathered  from  the  surrounding  country  to  pre 
vent  any  judicial  proceedings.  The  judges  turned 
pale,  and  looked  at  Sullivan.  They  said  :  — 

"  We  don't  wish  to  be  mobbed,  and  nothing  caii 
be  gained  by  going  on  :  we  have  no  civil  posse  or 
power  to  enforce  respect." 

The  old  hero  replied  :  — 

"  You  follow  me,  and  it  all  will  end  right." 

When  within  about  three  miles  of  Keene,  he  dis 
mounted  from  his  horse  and  took  out  his  military 
suit.  The  judges  looked  at  him  in  amazement, 
while  he  attired  himself  in  full  uniform.  He  was 
a  man  fully  six  feet  high,  as  straight  as  an  Indian 
and  as  brave  as  a  lion ;  and  his  military  accoutre 
ments  gave  him  a  still  more  commanding  appear 
ance.  When  he  was  all  ready,  even  to  the  spurs 
at  his  heels,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  told  the 
judges  to  follow  him  and  to  keep  close  by  him. 
He  drew  his  sword,  and  rode  his  horse  to  the  front. 
On  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  he  met  a  crowd 
of  men  so  dense  as  to  completely  block  the  road. 
General  Sullivan  shouted  out :  — 

"  Make  way  for  the  court !  Let  there  be  no 
obstructing  the  court !  " 

The  people  recognized  the  old  general,  and  one 


380     REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

of  the  mob  said :  "  I  fought  under  him  at  such  a 
place  ;  "  and  they  gazed  at  him.  He  bowed  pleas 
antly  to  those  he  recognized.  He  halted  to  ask 
after  the  health  of  some  of  them  and  that  of  their 
families ;  and  the  old  affection  of  his  comrades  in 
war  was  revived,  apparently  causing  them  to  for 
get  why  they  had  thus  assembled.  Before  the 
party  reached  the  hotel,  the  crowd  was  around  old 
Sullivan,  overwhelming  him  with  attention.  They 
found  the  hotel  full  of  people,  and  crowds  standing 
about  everywhere.  The  judges  went  into  the  hotel 
and  sat  down,  when  Sullivan  said  :  — 

"I  would  open  the  court  and  immediately  ad 
journ  it,  giving  as  a  reason  that  there  are  no  law 
yers  present  and  no  cases  ready." 

Acting  upon  this  advice,  they  prepared  to  walk 
over  to  the  court-house.  General  Sullivan  called 
for  the  man  who  had  the  keys ;  who,  when  he  came, 
said  "  it  would  not  do  to  attempt  to  open  the  court." 
General  Sullivan  replied  :  — 

"  Take  the  keys  of  the  court-house  and  go  in 
front  of  me." 

So  he  drew  his  sword,  and  they  started,  the  jani 
tor  leading  the  way,  General  Sullivan  coming  next, 
and  the  judges  following.  When  there  appeared 
to  be  the  slightest  attempt  to  crowd  the  path  or 
obstruct  a  free  passage,  the  general  would  cry  out, 
"  Make  way  for  the  court !  "  and  they  finally  reached 
the  door.  Then  Sullivan  said  to  the  janitor :  — 

"  Put  in  the  key  and  open  the  door." 

The  frightened  man  did  so,  and  the  judges  went 
in,  the  crowd  pouring  in  after  and  filling  up  the 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  381 

house.  The  judges  took  their  seats,  and  the  gen 
eral  sat  down  at  the  clerk's  desk.  He  called  upon 
the  crier  to  open  the  court ;  and  that  form  was 
complied  with.  He  then  said  :  "  The  court  is  now 
open,"  and  took  off  his  cap  and  sword  and  laid 
them  on  the  desk ;  then  he  called  upon  the  chap 
lain  to  offer  prayer.  That  over,  a  judge  rose 
and  said  :  — 

"  There  seem  to  be  no  suitors  here  and  no  clerk, 
and  I  will  therefore  adjourn  the  court  for  three 
months." 

Sullivan  got  up,  deliberately  put  on  his  cap  and 
sword,  and  shouted :  "  Gentlemen,  make  way  for 
the  court !  "  and  they  returned  to  the  hotel,  mounted 
their  horses,  and  rode  off. 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  the  moral  of  this  incident 
was  the  power  of  character  over  a  mob.  The  feel 
ing  inspired  among  the  mob  at  Keene  was  that  it 
was  of  no  use  to  resist  General  Sullivan ;  and  three 
thousand  exasperated  men,  who  had  come  there 
with  violent  purposes,  had  been  subdued  by  one 
man  without  any  power  and  by  the  mere  force  of 
his  character  and  courage.  "  That  very  thing," 
said  Mr.  Webster,  "  did  more  to  quell  that  rebel 
lion  and  allay  the  bitter  feeling  of  the  people  than 
any  other  event.  Despite  the  threats  of  the  peo 
ple,  a  court  had  been  opened  and  had  adjourned 
simply  for  the  want  of  business.  This  fact  gave 
the  people  a  different  idea  of  the  real  power  of  the 
law,  and  the  respect  which  should  be  paid  to  it." 

Mr.  Webster  used  to  tell  a  good  story  of  Samuel 
Adams  and  Paul  Revere.  Samuel  Adams  was  op- 


382          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

posed  to  the  Constitution.  He  was  a  strong  Repub 
lican,  and  had  fears  about  the  powers  of  the  general 
government.  The  mechanics  were,  in  a  body,  in 
favor  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  thinking 
that  their  interests  would  be  promoted.  They 
assembled  in  great  numbers,  Paul  Revere  at  their 
head,  and  held  a  meeting  at  the  "  Green  Dragon," 
for  the  purpose  of  passing  resolutions  to  be  sent 
to  the  Convention,  declaring  their  opinion  in  favor 
of  the  Constitution.  They  appointed  a  committee, 
of  which  Paul  Revere  was  chairman,  to  carry  the 
resolutions  to  Samuel  Adams.  The  committee 
accordingly  repaired  to  him,  and  Revere  stated 
that  he  was  chairman  of  a  committee  of  mechanics 
held  at  the  "  Green  Dragon "  on  the  previous 
evening,  which  had  been  appointed  for  the  purpose 
of  delivering  to  him  the  resolutions  respecting  the 
Constitution  which  the  meeting  had  adopted.  Mr. 
Adams  said  :  — 

"  Mr.  Revere,  how  many  mechanics  were  there 
in  the  '  Green  Dragon'  when  these  resolutions 
were  passed  ?  " 

"  There  were  more  mechanics  in  the  '  Green 
Dragon '  than  the  '  Green  Dragon '  could  hold." 

"  There  were  more  than  the  '  Green  Dragon  ' 
could  hold  ?  Well,  where  were  the  mechanics  that 
the  '  Green  Dragon '  could  not  hold  ?  " 

"  They  were  in  the  street." 

"  Well,  how  many  mechanics  were  there  in  the 
street  ?  " 

"  There  were  more  mechanics  in  the  street  than 
there  are  stars  in  heaven,  Mr.  Adams  ! " 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  383 

Mr.  Webster  used  to  say  that  he  wished  he  had 
the  time,  as  he  had  the  disposition,  to  write  an  ac 
count  of  the  early  New  Hampshire  settlements. 
His  father  was  one  of  the  pioneers  who  went  from 
the  sea-shore,  down  near  Portsmouth,  and  settled 
upon  the  extreme  borders  of  civilization.  All  that 
lay  between  them  and  Canada  was  the  primeval 
wilderness,  inhabited  by  Indians  and  wild  beasts. 
There  were  some  incidents  connected  with  the 
early  history  of  those  settlements,  the  recital  of 
which,  while  truthful  history,  would  be  more  in 
teresting  than  fiction. 

He  related  one  incident  to  show  the  relations 
that  existed  between  the  whites  and  the  Indians. 
The  Indians  used  to  make  occasional  incursions 
upon  the  settlements,  so  that  the  whites  were  often 
in  fear,  and  resorted  to  various  means  to  propitiate 
the  Indians.  They  found  it  necessary  to  gather 
their  wives  and  children  in  a  block  fort,  from  the 
top  of  which,  when  the  Indians  threatened,  the 
women  would  blow  a  trumpet,  in  order  to  bring 
the  men  back  from  the  fields,  whither  they  always 
carried  their  guns.  The  Indians  were  treacherous, 
and  the  settlers  felt  that  they  could  place  no  de 
pendence  upon  them ;  their  treaties  never  being 
regarded  as  secure.  The  settlers,  however,  made 
use  of  presents  to  pacify  the  red  men,  and  finally 
many  of  the  latter  became  much  addicted  to  the 
use  of  rum  and  tobacco.  In  the  neighborhood  of 
Webster's  father,  there  lived  a  man  named  John 
Hanson,  a  laboring  man,  who  was  often  employed 
to  do  work  for  the  Websters.  His  boys  were 


384  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

about  Daniel's  age.  Hanson  himself  was  some 
what  addicted  to  strong  drink,  and  when  in 
liquor  was  very  quarrelsome,  and  of  great  vio 
lence  of  temper.  The  Indian  chiefs,  particularly 
the  young  chiefs,  often  visited  the  white  settle 
ments,  occasionally  prolonging  their  stay  for  a 
week;  at  which  times  they  were  always  treated 
with  great  hospitality.  One  of  the  old  chiefs 
finally  came,  and  stayed  eight  or  ten  days,  paying 
his  visit  chiefly  at  Hanson's  house.  One  morning 
Hanson  and  this  old  chief  took  their  guns  and 
started  for  Dover,  —  a  pretty  long  jaunt.  The 
next  day  but  one,  Hanson  came  back,  but  the  Ind 
ian  was  not  with  him.  Somebody  asked  him,  — 

"  Where  is  the  Indian  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  replied  he,  "  he  went  home  by  another 
way." 

But  there  was  something  about  Hanson's  appear 
ance  that  led  the  people  to  fear  that  all  was  not  right. 
Hanson  had  evidently  been  on  a  spree,  was  a  little 
excited,  and  did  not  give  a  very  straight  account 
of  the  Indian.  In  the  course  of  a  week  or  ten 
days,  some  men,  as  they  were  crossing  a  stream 
on  a  little  log  bridge  about  four  miles  distant, 
looked  down  and  saw  the  remains  of  the  old  Ind 
ian.  They  took  the  body  out,  and  found  a  bullet- 
hole  through  him.  As  it  proved  afterwards,  Han 
son  and  the  Indian  had  got  into  an  altercation, 
both  being  full  of  liquor,  and  Hanson  had  shot  him, 
and  thrown  him  into  this  brook.  The  whole  settle 
ment  was  filled  with  excitement.  It  was  a  bloody, 
murderous,  and  wicked  deed  in  itself;  and  in  its 


PERSONAL   TRAITS  385 

consequences  it  was  alarming.  The  vindictiveness 
of  the  Indians  was  proverbial.  They  were  bound 
by  their  code  to  take  vengeance  upon  anybody 
who  had  slain  an  Indian,  and  this  was  an  old  chief ; 
so  that  everybody  in  the  settlement  looked  for  an 
immediate  attack  from  the  tribe.  Hanson  was  at 
once  arrested,  and  sent  to  Dover  jail.  A  commit 
tee  was  then  chosen  to  visit  the  tribe  and  apprise 
them  of  the  facts.  They  proceeded  to  the  Indian 
encampment,  carrying  with  them  the  remains  of 
the  chief.  They  told  them  of  the  murder ;  that 
John  Hanson  had  committed  it,  and  that  it  was 
probably  done  in  liquor.  They  added,  that  Han 
son  would  be  tried  for  his  life,  and,  if  found  guilty, 
he  would  be  hung  ;  and  they  wished  the  tribe  to 
know  that  this  man's  life  would  just  as  soon  be 
taken  for  killing  an  Indian  as  for  killing  a  white 
man.  This  was  said  to  propitiate  them,  and  seemed 
to  have  its  effect.  But  by  and  by  the  sentiment 
that  a  white  man's  life  should  never  be  taken  for 
that  of  an  Indian  gained  ground  among  the  settlers, 
and  a  re-action  took  place  in  favor  of  Hanson.  The 
result  was,  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  a 
dozen  stout  fellows  painted  their  faces  black,  signed 
a  round  robin,  and  started  for  Dover  jail :  they  tore 
out  the  side  of  the  jail,  and  set  Hanson  free.  The 
whole  region  was  greatly  excited,  but  Hanson  got 
away.  The  pursuit  was  not  very  vigorous,  for  the 
feeling  was  strong  that  perhaps  Hanson,  after  all, 
might  have  had  a  real  provocation  from  the  Indian. 
The  excitement  gradually  died  out ;  but  Hanson 
had  a  son  (about  Daniel  Webster's  age)  who  was 

25 


386  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

named  for  his  father,  and  who,  after  his  escape, 
began  to  express  fears  that  the  Indians  would  visit 
the  iniquity  of  the  father  upon  the  son,  which  was 
their  code.  He  said  :  — 

"  My  father  has  escaped  jail ;  the  Indian  says 
that  he  will  have  revenge  upon  the  next  of  kin." 

He  could  not  work  or  even  sleep.  He  imagined 
that  every  noise  he  heard  was  a  band  of  Indians 
coming  to  take  revenge.  He  was  a  strong,  stal 
wart  fellow,  but  he  began  to  lose  his  flesh,  so  that 
his  mother  and  friends  became  alarmed  for  him. 
At  last  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  would 
go  and  deliver  himself  up  to  the  Indians.  He  said 
nothing  of  his  purpose  until  he  had  resolved  upon  it. 
Then  he  told  his  mother,  and  started  for  the  Indian 
camp,  forty  or  fifty  miles  distant.  He  arrived  there, 
and  presenting  himself  to  the  chief,  said  :  — 

"  I  am  the  son  of  John  Hanson,  who  slew  your 
chief.  My  father  has  escaped,  and  I  have  come  to 
offer  myself  in  his  stead.  You  may  take  me  and 
do  what  you  please  with  me." 

This  touched  the  magnanimity  of  the  Indians, 
and  they  asked  him  how  he  would  like  to  be 
adopted  into  their  tribe. 

He  replied  that,  if  that  was  their  wish,  nothing 
would  please  him  more. 

So  they  made  an  Indian  of  him :  he  put  on  the 
Indian  costume,  married  a  squaw,  and  was  made  a 
chief  of  the  tribe  ;  and  he  lived  and  died  among 
the  Indians. 

Mr.  Webster  related  this  incident  in  the  follow 
ing  connection.  He  said  :  — 


PERSONAL  TRAITS.  387 

"  In  1840,  during  the  Whig  campaign,  I  went  to 
New  Hampshire  to  make  a  speech.  It  was  a  hot  day 
in  September ;  people  had  come  from  far  and  near, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  time,  to  attend  the  meet 
ing.  After  the  speaking  was  over,  a  plain,  farmer- 
like  person  came  upon  the  stand  and  wished  to  be 
introduced  to  me. 

"  '  I  don't  suppose,  Mr.  Webster/  said  he,  '  that 
you  remember  Jane  Hanson.'  I  stopped  for  an 
instant,  and  then  said  :  — 

"  '  Yes,  I  do  :   what  of  her  ? 

"  '  I  am  her  husband,  and  we  live  in  Bradford, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  I  have  come  up 
here  to  see  you  ;  my  wife  says  that  she  would  give 
one  of  our  best  cows  to  see  you  ! ' 

"  '  Well,'  I  replied,  ;  she  shall  see  me  for  less  than 
the  price  of  a  cow ;  for  I  will  go  and  see  her.' 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  return  to  Hanover  that 
night  with  Colonel  Brewster;  so  we  drove  down 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  a  mile  or  two  out  of 
the  way,  to  see  the  Hansons;  and  when  we  got 
there  we  found  that  the  farmer  had  preceded  us. 
There  I  saw  one  whom  I  remembered  only  as  a 
girl  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  now  a  nice,  respectable 
matron,  with  her  children  about  her ;  the  wife  of  a 
very  well-to-do  farmer.  Our  meeting  brought  up 
the  reminiscences  of  early  days,  and  she  talked  of 
them  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  I  inquired  about 
John,  and  she  said  she  had  heard  from  him,  but 
had  never  seen  him.  All  they  knew  of  him  was 
that  he  lived  among  the  Indians,  and  was  himself 
an  Indian. 


388  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"The  history  of  that  border/'  added  Mr.  Webster, 
"  for  thirty  or  forty  years,  is  filled  with  incidents 
of  that  kind ;  with  hardships,  heroism,  self-denial, 
and  the  great  fortitude  with  which  that  race  of 
almost  martyrs  bore  their  rude  civilization,  — 
planting  those  institutions  from  which  we  are 
now  deriving  the  benefit,  without,  as  I  frequently 
think,  feeling  and  acknowledging  the  obligations 
we  owe  to  them." 

When  Mr.  Webster  was  in  England,  he  dined 
on  one  occasion  with  the  Archbishop  (Howell)  of 
Canterbury.  There  were  about  twenty  guests 
present ;  and  after  the  cloth  had  been  removed 
the  English  custom  of  after-dinner  speech-making, 
which  was  rather  novel  to  Mr.  Webster,  was  fol 
lowed.  It  was  customary,  if  a  member  of  the 
Government  was  present,  to  call  him  out  by  drink 
ing  his  health,  and  for  him  to  acknowledge  the 
compliment  in  a  speech.  Much  to  Mr.  Webster's 
surprise,  —  for  he  did  not  suppose  there  was  to  be 
any  thing  of  that  kind,  —  an  eminent  lawyer,  a 
relative  of  the  Archbishop,  but  a  man  of  whom 
he  had  never  heard,  rose  and  made  some  remarks, 
prefacing  his  speech  by  stating  that  they  had  for 
a  guest  a  distinguished  gentleman  from  America. 
In  closing,  he  said  :  — 

"  I  would  propose,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  the 
health  of  Mr.  Webster,  a  member  of  the  Upper 
Senate  of  New  York." 

Mr.  Webster's  comment  on  this  was  that  it  was 
ludicrous ;  and  he  added,  that  he  had  often  thought 
that  if  any  prominent  American,  occupying  a  simi- 


PERSONAL   TRAITS.  389 

lar  position  in  society  and  having  had  the  same 
opportunities  of  knowledge,  should  make  such  a 
blunder  and  show  such  total  ignorance  of  the  Eng 
lish  government  and  its  forms,  it  would  subject 
him  to  very  marked  contempt  and  ridicule  at 
home.  Ignorance  like  this,  in  high  places,  im 
pressed  him  very  much  while  in  England.  He 
had  occasion  to  explain  to  a  great  many  English 
gentlemen,  and  even  eminent  politicians,  the  the 
ory  and  practice  of  the  American  system.  In  the 
course  of  conversation  they  would  say,  — 

"  You  are  a  Senator  of  the  United  States  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  where, —  in  Massachusetts  ?  " 

They  did  not  seem  to  understand  our  political 
distinctions  •  and  he  had  to  explain  to  his  question 
ers  the  nature  of  those  distinctions.  He  would  say 
that  the  States  were  represented  in  the  general 
government,  each  State  being  entitled  to  two  Sen 
ators,  and  to  Representatives  according  to  their 
population.  As  soon  as  the  Englishmen  began  to 
understand  these  distinctions,  they  manifested  their 
surprise,  and  many  of  them  received  his  instruc 
tions  with  great  delight.  Some  went  so  far  as  to 
declare  that  ours  must  be  "  a  miracle  of  govern 
ment." 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  about  the  time  he  was 
going  abroad  a  pamphlet  had  been  published, 
giving  the  statistics  of  the  productions  of  Mas 
sachusetts,  —  her  manufactures,  commerce,  and 
agriculture.  It  had  been  compiled  under  the 
administration  of  Governor  Everett,  and  at  his 


390  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

suggestion.  When  Mr.  Webster  started  for  Eu 
rope,  he  put  a  few  copies  of  this  pamphlet  into 
his  trunk,  thinking  they  might  serve  to  answer 
questions  and  to  interest  himself.  On  one  occa 
sion,  an  English  nobleman  asked  him,  — 

"  Tell  me  what  constitutes  the  wealth  and  labor 
of  the  State  in  which  you  live ;  what  do  the  peo 
ple  do  ?  " 

Mr.  Webster  described  the  population,  and  said 
that  he  would  send  him  a  little  pamphlet  that 
would  answer  all  his  questions.  The  nobleman 
thanked  him,  and  the  next  day  Mr.  Webster  ful 
filled  his  promise.  On  meeting  him  a  short  time 
afterwards  at  a  dinner  party,  the  nobleman  imme 
diately  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  the  pamphlet, 
and  remarked  that  he  had  been  very  much  sur 
prised  at  the  facts  contained  in  it. 

"  Does  your  State  borrow  money  in  our  mar 
ket?"  asked  he. 

Mr.  Webster  told  him  that  he  believed  it  did. 

"  Well,"  returned  the  nobleman,  "  I  am  going  to 
order  my  banker  to  invest  from  ten  to  twenty 
thousand  pounds  in  your  securities.  You  are  a 
busy  set  of  bees  in  Massachusetts.  The  bonds  of 
such  a  State  must  be  good." 

Mr.  Webster  was  fond  of  moralizing  upon  the 
period  in  which  he  lived,  and  often  talked  of  the 
rapid  progress  which  civilization  had  made  and 
was  making  in  this  century.  His  views  of  the 
race  and  its  destinies  were  always  cheerful;  he 
seldom  looked  upon  the  dark  side  of  things.  He 
was  profoundly  interested  in  his  kind.  Once,  in 


PERSONAL  TKAITS.  391 

speaking  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  he  said  to 
me :  — 

"  I  think  our  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places, 
and  in  a  pleasant  period  of  the  world's  history. 
I  have  reflected  much  on  the  past  and  on  the 
future,  in  connection  with  events  that  are  passing 
before  our  eyes :  and  I  am  rather  inclined  to  the 
belief  —  though  all  generations  of  men  think  they 
are  wiser  than  those  who  have  preceded  them  — 
that,  for  discovery,  this  age  has  certainly  surpassed 
every  other  of  which  history  renders  us  an  account. 
And  I  doubt  whether  any  century  in  the  future 
will  be  so  prolific  in  discoveries  beneficial  to  the 
race  as  ours  has  been.  Take  steam,  as  applied  to 
the  advancement  of  civilization  and  the  progress 
of  human  society,  —  that  one  discovery  has  dis 
tinguished  this  age  from  all  others.  I  remember 
well  when  Fulton  was  seeking  aid  from  Congress, 
and  sent  his  boat  up  to  Albany  propelled  by  steam. 
He  was  looked  upon  by  those  whose  influence  he 
sought  as  a  wild  visionary,  an  enthusiast ;  as  a  man 
better  fitted  for  an  insane  asylum  than  for  practical 
life.  Very  scientific  men  demonstrated  that  it  was 
impossible  to  apply  steam  to  the  purpose  of  navi 
gation,  —  that  the  amount  of  fuel  required  would 
alone  prevent  it.  Now,  think  of  it !  merchant  ves 
sels  are  having  more  or  less  steam  applied  to  their 
navigation.  Think  of  steam  as  applied  to  the  rail 
road,  and  the  changes  it  has  wrought  in  society ! 
Then  take  the  discovery  of  ether,  —  an  event  the 
full  benefits  of  which  we  can  hardly  realize  as  yet. 
Just  think  of  the  human  suffering  prevented  by  that 


392  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

discovery !  think  of  the  pain  of  amputations  and 
other  operations  prevented  in  hospitals !  But  the 
miracle  of  miracles  is  the  telegraph.  Whatever 
improvements  may  be  made  in  the  instruments  of 
telegraphic  transmission,  the  agent  itself  cannot 
be  improved.  It  is  impossible,  because  it  is  as 
quick  as  thought.  Steam,  electricity,  ether,  and 
the  ten  thousand  things  that  have  grown  from 
them,  —  think  of  it !  What  age  has  produced 
any  thing  like  it,  for  the  advancement  of  human 
society  and  the  amelioration  of  human  suffering  ? 
I  think  that  we  who  live  in  this  nineteenth  century 
have,  as  far  as  the  development  of  these  great 
discoveries  goes,  the  advantage  over  all  who  have 
preceded  us;  and  I  think  we  shall  have  the  ad 
vantage  over  the  generations  that  are  to  follow. 
That  is  my  opinion ;  and  I  thank  God  that  it  has 
pleased  Him  to  assign  my  life  to  just  this  age  of 
the  world." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

RELIGIOUS    THOUGHTS    AND    FEELINGS. 

MR.  WEBSTER  thought  often  and  profoundly  on 
religious  subjects.  He  had  the  most  devout  rev 
erence  for  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  was  long  in 
the  habit  of  reading  them  every  day.  He  often 
spoke  of  the  delight  their  perusal  gave  him,  espe 
cially  the  Gospels.  He  searched  himself;  and, 
while  he  had  doubts  and  fears  in  regard  to  his 
own  spiritual  state,  his  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
the  leading  Christian  doctrines  was  full  and  un 
questioning.  Throughout  his  life,  this  seems  to 
have  been  the  condition  of  his  mind  on  religious 
subjects.  The  early  lessons  of  piety  taught  by 
his  revered  mother  were  not  forgotten  to  the  end 
of  his  days.  He  always  believed  in  a  reverential 
keeping  of  the  Sabbath.  He  wrote  thus  to  Charles 
W.  Ridgeley,  secretary  of  a  society  organized  to 
promote  its  better  observance  :  — 

u  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  highly  do  I  esti 
mate  the  importance  of  a  proper  observance  of 
the  Christian  Sabbath,  and  the  more  grateful  do 
I  feel  towards  those  who  take  pains  to  impress  a 
sense  of  this  importance  on  the  community.  The 


394  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTEK. 

Lord's  Day  is  the  day  on  which  the  gospel  is 
preached.  It  is  the  day  of  public  worship  through 
out  the  Christian  world ;  and,  although  we  live  in 
a  reading  age  and  in  a  reading  community,  yet 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  the  human  agency 
which  has  been  and  still  is  most  efficaciously  em 
ployed  for  the  spiritual  good  of  men.  That  the 
poor  had  the  gospel  preached  to  them  was  an  evi 
dence  of  His  mission  which  the  Author  of  Chris 
tianity  himself  proclaimed ;  and  to  the  public 
worship  of  the  Deity,  and  to  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel,  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath  is  obviously 
essential." 

Many  anecdotes  and  narratives  have  been  given, 
illustrating  Mr.  Webster's  devotional  spirit,  his  rev 
erence  for  all  things  sacred,  and  his  frequent  and 
serious  contemplation  of  religious  subjects.  A 
venerable  Presbyterian  clergyman,  who  knew  Mr. 
"Webster  in  the  early  period  of  his  public  career, 
thus  testifies  to  his  religious  character :  — 

"  I  was  a  student  in  Mr.  Webster's  office,  in 
Portsmouth,  during  his  second  term  in  the  lower 
House  of  Congress.  He  was  then  a  communicant 
in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  of  which  Rev.  J.  W. 
Putnam  was  pastor.  My  own  mind  was  there 
deeply  awakened  to  the  subject  of  religion.  I 
united  with  the  same  church,  and  went  for  the 
first  time  to  the  communion-table  in  company  with 
my  esteemed  preceptor.  These  important  events 
in  my  own  life  led  me  to  frequent  conversations 
with  Mr.  Webster  on  the  subject  of  religion  as 
well  as  of  law.  The  result  was,  I  relinquished  the 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS  AND   FEELINGS.  395 

study  of  the  law,  with  his  approval  and  advice, 
for  the  study  of  theology. 

"  Mr.  Webster  was  a  man  of  deep  religious  feel 
ing.  He  united  with  the  church  of  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Worcester,  in  Salisbury,  his  native  town, 
early  after  he  entered  on  the  practice  of  the  law ; 
and  Mr.  Worcester  has  told  me  that  he  then  gave 
pleasing  evidence  of  the  sincerity  and  reality  of 
his  piety.  During  my  residence  in  his  office,  the 
controversy  was  in  progress  between  Doctors 
Worcester  and  Channing  on  the  subject  of  the 
Trinity.  The  pamphlets  of  these  distinguished 
theologians  were  received  as  they  successively 
issued  from  the  press,  and  were  read  by  us  to 
gether.  Mr.  Webster  said  that  Dr.  Worcester 
had  'not  only  the  truth,  but  the  argument/ 

"  Mr.  Webster  was  a  Bible  student  and  a  thorough 
theologian.  His  doctrinal  views  were  those  which 
naturally  result  from  taking  the  sovereignty  and 
infinite  perfections  of  God  as  a  stand-point,  and  in 
vestigating  truth  under  the  instructions  of  the 
Bible,  implicitly  received  as  a  divine  revelation  to 
instruct  our  ignorance  and  enlighten  our  darkness. 
I  never  heard  him  conduct  an  argument  on  reli 
gious  doctrine.  I  have  often  heard  him  state 
his  convictions,  and  leave  others  to  dispute.  He 
was  tolerant  to  those  who  differed  from  him,  and 
expressed  little  preference  for  forms  of  worship 
or  church  order.  Abstruse  reasonings  in  the 
pulpit  always  gave  him  uneasiness;  but  plain, 
pungent  preaching,  which  arraigned  the  sinner  as 
guilty  before  a  holy  God  and  a  holy  law,  always 


396  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

gained  his  commendation.  His  closing  scene  of 
life  was  such  as  I  always  expected. 

"After  a  long  life  of  unsurpassed  labor  in  his 
profession  and  in  politics,  as  he  felt  the  end  ap 
proaching,  he  first  disposed  of  his  official  business, 
then  minutely  dictated  his  will,  and  then  fell  back 
on  his  religious  hopes,  —  giving  his  last  hours  to 
religion,  as  to  a  familiar  subject,  long  cherished. 
He  was  a  patriot :  he  was  so  to  the  last.  He  was 
a  father:  he  blessed  his  family.  But  these  and 
all  other  subjects  were  opportunely  disposed  of, 
and  his  closing  thoughts  were,  as  we  should  have 
wished  them  to  be,  as  we  shall  wish  ours  to  be,  of 
God  in  Christ,  and  of  immortality." 

In  early  life,  as  stated  in  the  foregoing,  Mr. 
Webster  united  with  the  Congregational  Church 
in  Salisbury.  On  removing  to  Portsmouth,  he 
took  a  letter  from  this  church  to  Dr.  Buckrninster's, 
also  Congregationalist.  When  he  went  to  Boston, 
he  carried  a  letter  to  the  Brattle  Street  Church. 
This  society  he  never  officially  left.  He  often 
worshipped  at  other  churches,  especially  at  Epis 
copal  churches ;  but  at  Marshfield  usually  attended 
the  Congregationalist  Church. 

A  writer  says  of  Mr.  Webster,  that  he  "  seems 
to  have  been  what  is  called  an  '  Orthodox  man/ 
though  with  an  enlarged  liberality  in  his  mode  of 
thinking  and  acting,  —  making  the  Bible,  and  not 
any  denominational  creed,  his  rule  of  faith  and 
practice." 

Mr.  Ely,  of  Rochester,  in  whose  house  Mr. 
Webster  was  paying  a  visit  in  September,  1848, 


RELIGIOUS  THOUGHTS   AND  FEELINGS.  397 

thus  relates  a  conversation  which  he  then  had  with 
the  great  statesman  on  various  subjects,  including 
religion :  — 

"  One  evening,  Mr.  Webster,  Mr.  Hall,  Mrs.  Ely, 
and  myself,  were  in  the  parlor  alone.  Mr.  Webster 
commenced  'conversation  in  a  most  pleasant  man 
ner,  narrating  many  incidents  of  his  early  days. 
Among  others,  he  mentioned  that  from  infancy  to 
manhood  his  health  was  extremely  frail  and  feeble. 
No  one  of  his  friends  expected  him  to  live  long. 
He  had  a  perfectly  distinct  recollection,  when  very 
young,  of  having  been  a  long  time  sick,  and  re 
membered  that  while  in  this  state  his  father  one 
day,  entering  the  room  with  him  in  his  arms,  said 
to  his  mother,  '  We  must  give  him  up ;  we  never 
can  raise  this  child/  His  mother  made  no  reply ; 
but,  rising,  took  him  from  his  father's  arms,  and 
her  tears  fell  fast  upon  his  face  as  she  pressed  him 
to  her  bosom. 

"  The  conversation  then  turned  upon  his  early 
family  friends,  for  whom  he  seemed  to  have  enter 
tained  the  most  tender  affection.  The  subject  of 
religion  next  occupied  him. 

"  He  stated  the  fact  of  his  having  united  with  a 
Congregational  church  when  not  far  from  twenty 
years  of  age.  He  dwelt  upon  the  importance  of 
earnest  piety  on  the  part  of  the  clergy,  and  also 
of  greater  attention  to  oratory  and  the  arrange 
ment  of  discourses.  He  regretted  that  so  large  a 
portion  of  them  should  be  apparently  indifferent 
to  a  subject  so  important  as  the  manner  of  present 
ing  the  truth  of  God's  word.  He  spoke  of  his 


398          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

early  and  constant  habit  of  reading  the  Scriptures, 
and  enlarged  upon  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  the 
Gospels.  It  was  to  him  a  matter  of  astonishment 
that  any  enlightened  mind  could  doubt  their  divine 
authority.  He  said  he  read  them  with  increasing 
interest,  and  deemed  them  perfect  models  of  sim 
ple  beauty.  No  one,  he  remarked,  had  a  higher 
estimate  than  himself  of  the  power  of  the  gospel 
to  transform  the  character.  He  mentioned  the 
sudden  death  of  a  number  of  eminent  men  with 
whom  he  had  been  associated,  —  who,  like  himself, 
had  been  almost  wholly  engrossed  in  public  affairs  ; 
and  remarked  that  they  seldom  lived  beyond  the 
age  of  seventy-two  years.  He  himself,  he  said, 
could  not  expect  to  survive  that  period.  His  mind 
seemed  to  be  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he 
should  die  suddenly,  probably  while  engaged  in 
public  speaking." 

The  following  testimony  to  his  bearing  in  church, 
and  the  conspicuous  traits  of  his  religious  character, 
was  given  soon  after  his  death,  by  one  who  had 
ample  opportunity  to  observe  him  in  this  phase  of 
his  daily  life  :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster's  appearance  at  church  was  striking. 
He  entered  the  house  of  God  with  an  apparent  rev 
erence,  which  is  quite  uncommon.  He  walked  up 
the  aisle  to  his  pew  in  the  church  at  Marshfield,  as 
if  he  trod  a  hallowed  floor.  As  he  sat,  his  mind 
seemed  impressed  with  the  sacredness  of  the  day, 
the  place,  and  the  spiritual  themes  that  pressed 
upon  him.  He  was  fond  of  sacred  music,  and  as 
the  choir  proceeded  with  this  interesting  part  of 


RELIGIOUS  THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  399 

divine  worship,  he  frequently  joined  it  with  his 
deep  bass.  During  the  service  of  prayer  he  stood 
up  with  the  minister  and  congregation,  after  the 
manner  of  our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  with  great  devout- 
ness  of  manner. 

"  As  the  text  was  announced,  it  was  his  custom 
to  look  it  out  in  a  small  polyglot  Bible  that  was 
always  before  him,  with  the  purpose,  seemingly, 
of  attending  to  the  text  with  its  connection.  This 
being  done,  he  was  a  devout  and  attentive  hearer 
of  the  discourse.  Though  it  would  seem  to  be  a 
difficult  duty  to  preach  before  such  a  man  as  Dan 
iel  Webster,  yet  to  the  preacher  who  had  made  the 
best  preparation  he  could,  and  who  was  in  earnest 
in  presenting  the  great  themes  of  the  gospel,  it 
was  an  agreeable  duty,  for  such  a  preacher  always 
had  the  sympathy  and  earnest  attention  of  his 
greatest  hearer. 

"  His  minister,  on  one  Sabbath,  preached  two  ser 
mons  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  from  words 
in  Job,  —  a  book  that  Mr.  Webster  admired  and 
studied,  both  for  its  food  for  the  intellect  and  the 
heart.  The  words  were,  '  If  a  man  die  shall  he 
live  again  ? '  Mrs.  Webster  and  friends  were 
present  in  the  morning.  In  the  afternoon,  Mr. 
Webster  was  in  his  place,  though  his  health  was 
but  indifferent.  He  seemed  specially  interested 
in  that  particular  subject ;  and  from  conversations 
since,  and  from  that  remarkable  discourse  he  gave 
upon  it  in  his  dying  chamber,  it  is  evident  he  re 
flected  upon  it  much,  and  with  great  interest.  Dur 
ing  the  same  year,  1849,  I  believe,  the  words  of 


400  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

the  text  on  another  occasion,  were  those  of  Pilate 
to  Jesus,  '  What  is  truth  ?  '  From  the  insincerity 
and  indifference  of  Pilate  in  proposing  this  ques 
tion,  it  was  attempted  to  show  the  manner  and 
spirit  that  become  religious  inquirers,  who  would 
come  to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

"Mr.  Webster  was  all  attention  from  the  an 
nouncement  of  the  text,  and  kept  his  great  black 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  speaker  until  he  closed  his 
discourse.  Such  piercing  eyes  were  seldom,  if 
ever,  fixed  upon  a  preacher  in  ancient  or  modern 
times ;  and  one  having  felt  their  power  can  readily 
believe  the  anecdote  that  was  told  by  the  late  Dr. 
Codman,  of  Dorchester,  of  a  young  minister  fresh 
from  Andover,  who,  under  the  influence  of  those 
same  eyes,  was  struck  dumb  in  the  midst  of  his 
discourse  and  sank  into  his  seat,  leaving  the  doc 
tor,  who  was  more  accustomed  to  face  that  distin 
guished  hearer,  to  finish  the  discourse. 

"Mr.  Webster  was  not  a  critical  hearer  of  ser 
mons,  in  the  sense  of  being  fastidious  in  reference 
to  language  and  manner.  He  was  pleased  with 
simplicity,  devoutness,  and  earnestness  in  a  minis 
ter  of  holy  things,  as  becoming  the  man  and  becom 
ing  the  theme.  Any  levity  in  the  pulpit  he  could 
not  brook.  He  wished  to  be  instructed  by  a  ser 
mon  ;  but,  above  all,  he  wished  to  be  made  to  feel 
as  a  sinner,  accountable  to  his  God.  In  his  own 
words,  that  have  come  to  be  immortal,  he  wished 
preaching  to  come  home  to  him  f  as  a  personal 
matter.'  As  an  illustration  of  this,  while  Mr. 
Webster  was  on  a  summer  visit  to  his  farm  in 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS   AND   FEELINGS.  401 

Franklin,  N.  H.,  Eev.  Mr.  Knight,  at  that  time  pas 
tor  of  the  Congregational  Church  in  that  place, 
took  occasion  in  the  course  of  a  sermon,  in  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Webster,  to  address  some  words 
of  exhortation  adapted  to  men  in  public  life  and 
called  to  high  places,  evidently  alluding  to  his  dis 
tinguished  hearer  and  occasional  parishioner.  Mr. 
Webster  received  the  gospel  message  with  all  the 
kindness  with  which  it  fell  from  the  lips  of  this 
simple-hearted  and  pious  country  clergyman ;  and, 
at  the  close  of  the  service,  waited  until  he  descended 
from  the  pulpit,  and  then  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
thanked  him  for  his  fidelity  to  his  Master  and  to  him. 

"  All  unnatural  display  in  the  pulpit,  and  exhi 
bitions  of  quasi  greatness,  were  displeasing  to  Mr. 
Webster.  He  preferred  goodness  rather  than  great 
ness,  while  affected  greatness  was  painful  to  him. 
A  clergyman  in  a  town  not  very  remote  from  Marsh- 
field  wrote  what  he  fancied  to  be  a  great  sermon, 
just  the  one  to  preach  before  Daniel  Webster.  Not 
long  after,  he  arranged  an  exchange  with  the  pastor 
of  the  First  Church  in  Marshfield,  and  in  due  time 
made  his  appearance  in  the  pulpit  before  the  great 
man  to  whom  he  had  come  to  preach  if  not  to  pray. 
He  delivered  his  great  discourse,  accompanied  with 
violent  beating  of  the  air.  The  mountain  labored, 
but  not  even  a  church  mouse  was  produced,  though 
several,  doubtless,  were  frightened  away. 

"  The  preacher  still  supposed  he  had  made  a  great 
effort,  and  doubtless  he  had.  Mr.  Webster  not  re 
maining  to  compliment  his  sermon  at  the  close 
of  the  service,  early  on  Monday  morning  he  hast- 

26 


402  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

ened  to  his  mansion,  two  miles  distant,  to  receive 
his  praises,  not  doubting  but  that  they  would  be 
showered  upon  him,  with  an  apology  for  not  re 
turning  his  thanks  sooner.  Mr.  Webster  received 
him,  acccording  to  the  minister's  account  of  the 
interview,  rather  ceremoniously,  and  treated  him 
somewhat  coolly.  He  made  no  allusion  to  the  dis 
course.  The  clergyman  was  uneasy,  and  soon  left 
for  home,  with  a  feeling,  as  his  profession  would 
say,  decidedly  Mondayish,  and  ever  after  contended 
that  Daniel  Webster  could  not  appreciate  a  great 
sermon. 

"  It  was  generally  admitted  before  the  death  of 
Mr.  Webster  that  he  was  the  foremost  lawyer, 
statesman,  diplomatist,  and  orator  in  the  land.  But 
the  truth  is,  Daniel  Webster,  in  the  judgment  of 
those  who  knew  him  best,  was  as  good  as  he  was 
great.  Nor  was  he  a  mere  theorist  in  religion. 
He  was  a  practical  Christian,  eminently  thought 
ful  upon  God,  upon  His  works,  and  His  word  ;  and 
the  clergyman  whose  preaching  and  life  met  the 
approval  of  his  judgment  and  conscience  might 
feel  quite  sure  that  he  was  doing  the  work  of  his 
Master." 

A  gentleman  who  was  present  on  one  occasion 
at  a  dinner  party  at  the  Astor  House,  given  by 
Mr.  Webster  to  a  few  of  his  New  York  friends,  re 
lates  an  incident  which  took  place  at  the  table,  in 
which  Mr.  Webster  earnestly  avowed  his  deep  reli 
gious  convictions.  It  was  when  he  was  Secretary 
of  State  in  Mr.  Fillmore's  cabinet. 

"  There  were  twenty  or  so  at  the  table.     Mr. 


RELIGIOUS  THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  403 

Webster  seemed  wearied  by  his  journey,  and 
speaking  but  little,  if  at  all,  plunged  into  a  dark 
some  sort  of  reverie,  not  well  calculated  to  enliven 
his  friends.  This  at  length  became  so  apparent, 
and  the  situation  of  all  so  unpleasant,  that  one  of 
the  company  urged  upon  a  distinguished  man 
present,  a  warm  friend  of  Mr.  Webster,  to  get 
him  into  conversation.  It  was  thought  he  only 
needed  to  be  jogged,  to  become  as  lively  as  they 
wished. 

"  This  friend  consented,  and  spoke  to  Mr.  Web 
ster,  asking  him  some  question  that  in  ordinary 
circumstances  and  with  ordinary  men  would  have 
led  to  conversation  ;  but  it  failed  in  the  present 
case.  The  dark  Secretary  of  State  merely  raised 
his  head  and  answered  simply,  and  crept  into  his 


cave  again. 


"  Again  the  gentleman,  frightened  by  his  failure, 
was  urged  to  renew  the  attempt  to  draw  him  out. 
He  summoned  courage  and  said  to  Mr.  Webster : 

" '  Mr.  Webster,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  was 
the  most  important  thought  that  ever  occupied  your 
mind/ 

"  Here  was  a  thumper  for  him,  and  so  everybody 
thought  at  the  table.  Mr.  Webster  slowly  passed 
his  hand  over  his  forehead,  and  in  a  low  tone  said 
to  a  friend  near  him:  — 

" '  Is  there  any  one  here  who  does  not  know 
me?' 

"  '  No  sir,  they  all  know  you  —  are  all  your 
friends.' 

"  Then  he  looked  over  the  table,  and  you  may 


404  EEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

well  imagine  how  the  tones  of  his  voice  would 
sound  upon  such  an  occasion,  giving  answer  to 
such  a  question. 

" '  The  most  important  thought  that  ever  occu 
pied  my  mind/  said  he,  '  was  that  of  my  individ 
ual  responsibility  to  God !  '  —  upon  which,  for 
twenty  minutes,  he  spoke  to  them,  and  when  he 
had  finished  he  rose  from  the  table  and  retired  to 
his  room.  The  rest  of  the  company,  without  a 
word,  went  into  an  adjoining  parlor,  and  when 
they  had  gathered  there  some  of  them  exclaimed, 
'  Who  ever  heard  any  thing  like  that  ? '  What  Mr. 
Webster  said  in  advocacy  of  his  sublime  thought 
I  do  not  know ;  no  one  ever  repeated  it,  and  1 
presume  no  one  ever  will." 

In  the  composition  and  delivery  of  sermons,  Mr. 
Webster  loved  to  see  (as  has  been  remarked)  sim 
plicity  and  directness.  Many  clergymen  supposed 
that  if  Mr.  Webster  were  listening  they  ought  to 
be  learned,  profound,  and  argumentative ;  but  they 
utterly  mistook  his  taste  in  this  respect.  He  pre 
ferred  those  sermons  which  appealed  most  directly 
to  the  conscience  of  the  individual,  and  avoided 
topics  of  controversy.  For  a  political  sermon  he 
had  no  relish,  even  when  it  accorded  with  his  own. 
views.  After  listening  to  an  elaborate  discourse  on 
the  Kevolutionary  movements  in  Europe,  in  1848, 
based  on  the  text :  "  I  will  overturn,  overturn, 
overturn  it;  and  it  shall  be  no  more,  until  He 
come,  whose  right  it  is;  and  I  will  give  it  Him," 
he  went  home  quite  disquieted.  He  talked  to  his 
family  and  to  a  friend  who  was  present  of  the  folly 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS  AND   FEELINGS.  405 

of  attempting  to  interpret  prophecy  by  passing 
events. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  observed,  "  the  clergy 
man  has  not  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  European 
politics  to  explain  intelligently  the  causes  or  re 
sults  of  existing  commotions.  Secondly,  the  events 
are  too  near  us,  and  exert  too  much  influence  over 
our  sympathies,  for  us  to  determine  what  the  divine 
purpose  is  in  respect  to  them.  Thirdly,  the  pulpit 
is  not  the  proper  place  for  such  speculations.  I  do 
not,"  added  he,  "  go  to  church  to  learn  history ; 
but  to  be  reminded  of  duty." 

It  happened  to  Mr.  Webster  once,  to  attend 
divine  service  in  a  quiet  country  village.  The 
clergyman  was  a  simple-hearted,  pious  old  man. 
After  the  introductory  exercises,  he  rose  and  named 
his  text ;  and,  with  the  utmost  simplicity  and  earn 
estness,  said :  — 

"  My  friends,  we  can  die  but  once  ; "  then  he 
paused. 

"  Frigid  and  weak  as  these  words  might  seem  at 
first,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "  they  were  to  me  among 
the  most  impressive  and  awakening  I  ever  heard. 
I  never  felt  so  sensibly  that  I  must  die  at  all,  as 
when  that  devout  old  man  told  me  I  could  '  die 
but  once  ! '  " 

Mr.  Webster  exceedingly  liked  the  society  of 
intelligent  clergymen.  He  always  welcomed  them 
to  his  house,  and  tried  to  make  their  visits  pleasant. 
One  summer  when  I  boarded  in  Medford,  Mr.  Web 
ster  came  out  to  dine  with  me ;  and  after  dinner, 
in  the  evening,  I  drove  him  to  town  in  my  gig. 
As  we  were  about  to  leave,  I  said :  — 


406  KEMINISCENCES   OF   DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  By  the  way,  there  is  a  very  intelligent  clergy 
man  here,  whom  you  perhaps  know  by  reputation, 
and  who  in  conversation  has  spoken  of  you  with 
great  respect  and  admiration,  —  Dr.  William  Adams 
of  New  York.  He  married  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Thatcher  Magoun,  and  has  come  on  to  spend  his 
vacation.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  yours." 

"  I  used  to  know  Thatcher  Magoun,"  he  replied, 
"  twenty  years  ago  ;  suppose  we  drive  up  and  see 
them." 

So  we  drove  up,  and  found  Dr.  Adams  there.  We 
spent  a  pleasant  half  hour  with  them,  and,  in  part 
ing,  Mr.  Webster  told  Dr.  Adams  that  he  should 
be  very  much  delighted  to  see  him  at  Marshfield. 
Dr.  Adams  thanked  him,  and  we  retired.  While 
riding  in,  our  conversation  turned  upon  religious 
topics.  It  was  seldom  that  I  asked  him  any  thing 
about  his  religious  views.  He  talked  very  freely 
about  them. 

"  Mr.  Webster,"  said  I,  "  you  are  a  member  of 
what  we  call  the  Orthodox  Church?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  he,  "  I  am ;  I  joined  the  church 
to  which  my  father,  mother,  and  elder  brothers  and 
sisters  belonged,  in  my  native  town,  —  the  Orthodox 
Congregational  Church.  I  remember  it  well  now." 

I  said  :  "  When  you  came  to  Boston,  you  went  to 
the  Unitarian  Church,  and  they  now  speak  of  you 
as  a  Unitarian." 

"  I  am  not  a  Unitarian,"  he  replied.  "  I  should 
be  regarded  as  perhaps  rather  liberal  in  my  views  ; 
but  if  I  had,  with  my  experience  of  life,  and  a  good 
deal  of  reflection,  to  choose  a  church  and  form  of 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS   AND  FEELINGS.  407 

worship,  I  do  not  think  I  would  change  my  church 
relations.  The  organization  is  simple,  and  still  has 
enough  of  form.  It  imposes  suitable  restraints, 
but  not  enough  to  make  the  matter  so  formal  as 
la  substitute  the  thing  signifying  for  the  thing  it 
self.  When  I  came  to  Boston,  many  of  my  friends 
went  to  Brattle  Street  Church.  Buckminster  was 
its  minister,  one  of  whose  brothers  was  my  precep 
tor  at  Exeter.  Then,  the  divisions  were  not  so 
marked  as  now.  Dr.  Codman  would  preach  in 
Brattle  Street  Church,  and  Dr.  Little  at  the  Old 
South.  Afterwards,  the  division  took  place,  but  I 
never  felt  it  worth  while  to  change.  I  was  not 
here  a  great  deal ;  and  at  Marsh  field  I  always 
attended  the  Orthodox  Church,  which  I  continue 
to  do." 

A  few  days  after  Mr.  Webster's  interview  with 
Dr.  Adams  at  Medford,  the  doctor  came  to  me  and 
said  he  was  going  to  pay  a  visit  in  Duxbury ;  and 
added :  "  If  I  thought  Mr.  Webster  was  sincere  in 
asking  me  to  Marshfield,  I  would  go  down  there 
and  see  him." 

"  He  was  perfectly  sincere,"  I  replied,  "  and 
would  be  delighted  to  see  you." 

Dr.  Adams  said  he  did  not  feel  quite  well  enough 
acquainted  with  him  to  visit  his  house ;  yet  if  I 
thought  he  was  really  in  earnest,  he  should  ven 
ture.  I  told  him  to  go  by  all  means ;  Mr.  Webster 
would  certainly  make  him  welcome.  A  few  days 
after  that  he  went  down  to  Duxbury,  and  his  host 
carried  him  one  morning  over  to  Marshfield.  Mr. 
Webster  was  at  home  and  was  glad  to  see  him.  Dr. 


408  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

Adams  stayed  through  the  day,  Mr.  Webster  insist 
ing  upon  his  remaining ;  and  he  thought  it  was 
one  of  the  most  delightful  days  in  his  life.  Their 
friendship  from  that  time  was  one  of  great  inti 
macy.  Mr.  Webster  conceived  a  high  admiration 
for  Dr.  Adams,  who  was  a  very  accomplished  and 
able  man. 

In  February,  1851,  Mr.  Webster  went  to  New 
York,  to  deliver  an  address  before  the  Historical 
Society.  As  the  22d  of  February  came  on  Sunday, 
the  celebration  was  put  off  till  Monday ;  and,  on 
Sunday,  Dr.  Adams  preached  a  sermon  before  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association.  There  were 
fifty  clergymen  in  the  house,  as  well  as  many  emi 
nent  gentlemen  in  civil  life  ;  and  Mr.  Webster  and 
myself  were  present  by  invitation.  The  text  was 
"  The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon,"  and  upon 
it  was  founded  a  very  beautiful  address,  —  a  sort 
of  eulogy  on  Washington.  As  we  left  the  church, 
Mr.  Webster  spoke  of  it  very  highly.  He  referred 
to  Dr.  Adams  as  a  man  of  high  attainments,  a 
scholar  and  Christian  gentleman. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Webster  had  delivered  his  7th  of 
March  speech,  the  pulpits  of  the  land  began  preach 
ing  on  one  side  or  the  other  of  the  Compromise 
Measures,  Many  of  the  sermons  were  published.  I 
was  in  Washington  that  winter ;  and  some  of  these 
discourses  used  to  reach  Mr.  Webster  through  the 
mail  nearly  every  day,  being  sent  by  their  authors. 
His  habit  was  to  ask  me  to  open  his  pamphlets,  and 
see  what  they  were  about.  I  would  open  them, 
read  the  names  of  the  authors,  and  occasionally  an 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  409 

extract.  He  usually  paid  but  little  attention,  per 
haps  saying  that  they  did  not  amount  to  much,  or 
something  of  that  kind.  Finally,  I  came  to  one  by 
Dr.  Adams.  "  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  he,  u  that  will  be 
good.  To-night  we  will  read  that."  So  that  even 
ing,  we  being  alone,  I  read  it  aloud  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Webster.  It  was  a  conservative,  Christian, 
and  dignified  discourse ;  and  Mr.  Webster  was 
constantly  ejaculating  through  the  whole  of  it, 
"  Excellent !  "  When  I  had  read  it  through,  he 
said  :  "  That  is  a  most  beautiful  discourse  ;  if  the 
pulpits  of  America  were  all  occupied  by  such  men 
as  that,  —  that  great  conservative  influence,  the  pul 
pit,  —  this  Government  and  its  institutions  would 
last  for  ever.  That  is  admirable.  I  will  write  to 
Dr.  Adams  and  thank  him  for  it,  if  I  never  do 
another  thing."  He  accordingly  wrote  a  letter  to 
Dr.  Adams,  which  the  latter  told  me  afterwards 
he  considered  one  of  the  most  precious  treasures 
he  could  leave  to  his  children. 

Mr.  Webster  had  a  strong  affection  for  the  devo 
tional  songs  of  Dr.  Watts.  He  learned  most  of 
them  by  heart  in  boyhood,  and  repeated  them  and 
sung  them,  alone  and  in  company,  in  manhood.  A 
friend  called  on  him  one  Sabbath  evening,  in  New 
York.  Having  observed  him  at  church  during  the 
day,  the  friend  inquired  how  he  had  been  pleased 
with  the  sermon.  Mr.  Webster  replied  that  he  had 
had  his  thoughts  diverted  from  the  discourse  by 
opening  the  hymn-book  and  reading  a  stanza  of 
that  beautiful  hymn  of  Watts,  commencing  — 

"  Welcome,  sweet  day  of  rest," 


410  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

and  which  had  been  altered  as  follows :  — 

"  My  willing  soul  would  stay 

In  such  a  frame  as  this, 
Till  called  to  rise  and  soar  away 
To  everlasting  bliss." 

He  was  so  vexed  by  the  audacity  of  the  compiler, 
who  had  mutilated  the  exquisite  harmony  of  the 
original,  and  destroyed  the  beautiful  allusion  to  the 
dying  swan,  that  he  could  not  enjoy  the  services. 
He  then  repeated,  with  evident  feeling,  the  stanza 
as  Watts  wrote  it :  — 

"  My  willing  soul  would  stay 

In  such  a  frame  as  this, 
And  sit  and  sing  herself  away 
To  everlasting  bliss." 

The  year  before  Mr.  Webster  died,  in  the  au 
tumn  of  1851,  I  was  spending  a  few  weeks  with 
him  at  his  place  in  Franklin.  One  pleasant  morn 
ing  he  said  to  me  :  — 

"  I  am  going  to  take  a  drive  up  to  Andover,  and 
I  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

Andover  was  about  ten  miles  from  his  place  in 
Franklin.  He  added  :  — 

"  We  can  start  after  breakfast,  and  it  will  take 
us  an  hour  and  a  half  or  two  hours  to  go.  We 
shall  only  want  to  stay  there  an  hour  or  so,  and 
we  will  return  in  time  for  dinner.  When  we  get 
into  the  wagon  I  will  tell  you  whom  I  am  going  to 


see." 


The  horse  was  harnessed,  and  we  started  off. 
As  we  rode  along,  Mr.  Webster  had  a  great  many 
reminiscences  called  to  mind  by  different  objects 


KELIGIOUS    THOUGHTS  AND   FEELINGS.  411 

that  we  passed.  Such  a  man  used  to  live  here, 
he  would  say,  and  such  a  man  lived  in  such  a  house, 
and  there  I  remember  such  a  man  lived ;  and  here 
he  used  himself  to  live  when  a  boy,  and  there  he 
used  to  pitch  quoits,  and  in  another  place  he  used 
to  play  writh  John  Holden's  boys. 

One  incident  to  which  Mr.  Webster  called  my 
attention,  connected  with  the  early  days  of  the 
Revolution,  I  must  not  omit  to  mention.  A  few 
rods  from  the  bank  of  the  river  along  which  we 
were  riding  was  a  small  tuft  of  an  island,  upon 
which  stood  a  solitary  tree.  Mr.  Webster  pointed 
out  this  spot,  and  called  my  attention  to  the  tree 
standing  there  alone. 

"  That  tree,"  said  he,  "  used  to  be  a  favorite 
mark  in  the  target-practice  of  the  band  of  minute 
men,  who,  when  they  went  down  from  New  Hamp 
shire  and  took  part  in  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
chose  my  father  as  their  captain.  These  men,  — 
many  of  them  trained  in  the  hard  experiences  of 
frontier  life,  and  having  a  firm  reliance  upon  their 
trusty  rifles,  —  of  course  had  good  guns,  and  in 
deed  took  no  little  pride  in  them  and  in  their  skill 
in  handling  them.  This  tree  was  a  target  for 
them  •  and  here  they  would  come  and  exercise 
their  skill.  Being  at  long  distance,  the  thing  to 
be  clone  was  to  hit  the  body  of  the  tree  itself; 
and  the  way  in  which  they  determined  whether 
the  tree  was  hit  was  rather  a  novel  one.  If  the 
bullet  did  not  strike  the  tree  it  would  fall  into  the 
water  beyond  the  tree,  and  the  splash  where  it 
struck  the  water  would  be  readily  noticed ;  but,  if 


412          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

there  was  no  disturbance  of  the  surface  of  the 
water  beyond  the  tree,  it  was  taken  for  granted 
that  the  ball  had  struck  the  tree  itself.  My  father 
used  to  describe  to  me  these  matches  among  the 
frontier  marksmen  ;  and  he  would  say  that  when 
his  turn  came  to  try  his  hand  with  the  others,  he 
never  failed  of  being  set  down  as  having  hit  the 
tree.  These  men  were,  of  course,  all  under  the 
command  of  my  father  whenever  they  were  on 
duty  in  the  field ;  but  here,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  their  homes,  they  were  all  on  the  same  footing, 
and  one  was  just  as  good  as  another.  My  father 
always  used  to  take  part  in  these  competitive  tests. 
And,  as  there  never  was  any  splash  in  the  water 
after  his  shot,  he  got  the  credit  of  being  the  best 
marksman  among  them  all. 

" '  How  did  you  manage  to  do  it  ? '  I  once  asked 
him. 

"  '  Oh,  simply  enough/  he  replied,  with  a  hearty 
laugh  as  he  added :  '  The  fact  is,  I  never  used  to 
put  any  bullet  into  my  gun  ! ' 

After  Mr.  Webster  had  recounted  various  pleas 
ing  reminiscences  of  this  kind,  he  said  :  — 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you  the  object  of  this  trip  to 
day.  I  am  going  to  see  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Colby.  John  Colby  is  a  brother-in-law  of  mine. 
He  married  my  oldest  half-sister,  and  was,  of 
course,  a  good  many  years  older  than  myself,  — 
as  she  was.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  forty-five  years, 
as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect.  My  sister,  his  wife, 
has  been  dead  many,  many  years ;  and  any  interest 
I  may  have  had  in  John  Colby  has  all  died  out :  but 


KELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS   AND   FEELINGS.  413 

I  have  learned  some  particulars  about  his  recent 
life  that  interest  me  very  much,  and  I  am  going 
to  see  him.  I  will  tell  you  something  about  him. 
When  I  was  a  lad  at  home,  on  the  farm,  John 
Colby  was  a  smart,  driving,  trading,  swearing  yeo 
man,  money-loving  and  money-getting.  In  that 
rather  rude  period,  when  there  were  not  many 
distinctions  in  society,  when  one  man  was  about 
as  good  as  another,  and  when  there  were  very  few 
educated  persons,  he  was  considered  a  very  smart; 
active  man.  I  remember  him,  however,  with  a  sort 
of  terror  and  shudder.  He  would  pick  me  up  when 
I  was  a  little  fellow,  throw  me  astride  of  a  horse  bare 
back,  and  send  the  horse  to  the  brook.  The  horse 
would  gallop,  and  I  had  to  hold  on  to  his  mane  to 
keep  from  being  pitched  into  the  river.  Colby  was 
a  reckless,  wild,  harum-scarum,  dare-devil  sort  of  a 
fellow.  Well,  John  Colby  married  my  oldest  half- 
sister.  She  was  a  religious,  good  woman;  but 
beaux  were  not  plenty,  and  John  Colby  was  a  fine- 
looking  man.  His  personal  habits  were  good  enough, 
laying  aside  his  recklessness ;  he  was  not  a  drink 
ing  man,  and  he  was,  as  the  world  goes,  a  thrifty 
man.  Any  of  the  girls  in  town  would  have  married 
John  Colby.  After  he  married  my  sister,  I  went 
away  to  college,  and  lost  sight  of  him.  Finally,  he 
went  up  to  Andover  and  bought  a  farm ;  and  the 
only  recollection  I  have  about  him  after  that  is,  that 
he  was  called,  I  think,  the  wickedest  man  in 
the  neighborhood,  so  far  as  swearing  and  impiety 
went.  I  used  to  wonder  how  my  sister  could 
marry  so  profane  a  man  as  John  Colby.  I  think 


414          REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

she  herself  was  very  much  shocked ;  and  I  know 
her  father  was,  who  was  a  religious  man.  And 
still  Colby  was  considered  i  a  good  catch.'  I  came 
home  from  college  during  vacation,  and  used  to 
hear  of  him  occasionally ;  but  after  a  few  years, 
—  perhaps  five  or  six  years,  —  my  sister  died,  and 
then,  of  course,  all  the  interest  that  any  of  us  had 
in  John  Colby  pretty  much  ceased.  I  believe  she 
left  a  child,  —  I  think  a  daughter,  —  who  grew  up 
and  was  married,  and  also  left  a  child. 

Now  I  will  give  you  the  reason  why  I  am  to-day 
going  up  to  see  this  John  Colby.  I  have  been  told 
by  persons  who  know,  that,  within  a  few  years,  he 
has  become  a  convert  to  the  Christian  religion,  and 
has  met  with  that  mysterious  change  which  we  call 
a  change  of  heart ;  in  other  words,  he  has  become  a 
constant,  praying  Christian.  This  has  given  me 
a  very  strong  desire  to  have  a  personal  interview 
with  him,  and  to  hear  with  my  own  ears  his  account 
of  this  change.  For,  humanly  speaking,  I  should 
have  said  that  his  was  about  as  hopeless  a  case  for 
conversion  as  I  could  well  conceive.  He  won't 
know  me,  and  I  shall  not  know  him  ;  and  I  don't 
intend  to  make  myself  known  at  first." 

We  drove  on,  and  reached  the  village,  —  a  lit 
tle,  quiet  place,  one  street  running  through  it,  a 
few  houses  scattered  along  here  and  there,  with 
a  country  store,  a  tavern,  and  a  post-office.  As 
we  drove  into  this  quiet,  peaceable  little  hamlet, 
at  midday,  with  hardly  a  sign  of  life  noticeable, 
Mr.  Webster  accosted  a  lad  in  the  street,  and  asked 
where  John  Colby  lived. 


RELIGIOUS   THOUGHTS   AND  FEELINGS.  415 

"  That  is  John  Colby's  house,"  said  he,  pointing 
to  a  very  comfortable  two-story  house,  with  a  green 
lawn  running  down  to  the  road.  We  drove  along 
towards  it,  and  a  little  before  we  reached  it,  mak 
ing  our  horse  secure,  we  left  the  wagon  and  pro 
ceeded  to  the  house  on  foot.  Instead  of  steps 
leading  to  it,  there  were  little  flagstones  laid  in 
front  of  the  door ;  and  you  could  pass  right  into 
the  house  without  having  to  step  up.  The  door 
was  open.  There  was  no  occasion  to  knock,  be 
cause,  as  we  approached  the  door,  the  inmates 
of  the  room  could  see  us.  Sitting  in  the  middle 
of  that  room  was  a  striking  figure,  who  proved  to 
be  John  Colby.  He  sat  facing  the  door,  in  a  very 
comfortably  furnished  farm-house  room,  with  a 
little  table,  or  what  would  perhaps  be  called  a  light- 
stand,  before  him.  Upon  it  was  a  large,  old-fash 
ioned  Scott's  Family  Bible,  in  very  large  print, 
and  of  course  a  heavy  volume.  It  lay  open  and 
he  had  evidently  been  reading  it  attentively.  As 
we  entered,  he  took  off  his  spectacles  and  laid 
them  upon  the  page  of  the  book,  and  looked  up 
at  us  as  we  approached,  Mr.  Webster  in  front.  He 
was  a  man,  I  should  think,  over  six  feet  in  height, 
and  he  retained  in  a  wonderful  degree  his  erect 
and  manly  form,  although  he  was  eighty  five  or 
six  years  old.  His  frame  was  that  of  a  once 
powerful,  athletic  man.  His  head  was  covered 
with  very  heavy,  thick,  bushy  hair,  and  it  was 
white  as  wool,  which  added  very  much  to  the 
picturesqueness  of  his  appearance.  As  I  looked 
in  at  the  door,  I  thought  I  never  saw  a  more 


416  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEH. 

striking  figure.  He  straightened  himself  up?  but 
said  nothing  until  just  as  we  appeared  at  the  door, 
when  he  greeted  us  with,  — 

"  Walk  in,  gentlemen." 

He  then  spoke  to  his  grandchild  to  give  us  some 
chairs.  The  meeting  was,  I  saw,  a  little  awkward, 
and  he  looked  very  sharply  at  us,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  You  are  here,  but  for  what  I  don't  know : 
make  known  your  business."  Mr.  Webster's  first 
salutation  was, — 

"This  is  Mr.  Colby,  Mr.  John  Colby,  is  it 
not?" 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  know  me,"  said  Mr. 
Webster. 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  know  you ;  and  I  should  like 
to  know  how  you  know  me." 

"I  have  seen  you  before,  Mr.  Colby,"  replied 
Mr.  Webster. 

"  Seen  me  before  ! ''  said  he ;  "  pray,  when  and 
where  ? " 

"  Have  you  no  recollection  of  me  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Webster. 

"  No,  sir,  not  the  slightest ;  "  and  he  looked  by 
Mr.  Webster  toward  me,  as  if  trying  to  remember 
if  he  had  seen  me.  Mr.  Webster  remarked,  — 

"  I  think  you  never  saw  this  gentleman  before ; 
but  you  have  seen  me." 

Colby  put  the  question  again,  when  and  where  ? 

"You  married  my  oldest  sister,"  replied  Mr. 
Webster,  calling  her  by  name.  (I  think  it  was 
Susannah.) 


RELIGIOUS    THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  417 

"  I  married  your  oldest  sister !  "  exclaimed  Col 
by  ;  "  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  '  little  Dan/  "  was  the  reply. 

It  certainly  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the 
expression  of  wonder,  astonishment,  and  half-in 
credulity  that  came  over  Colby's  face. 

"  You  Daniel  Webster !  "  said  he  ;  and  he  started 
to  rise  from  his  chair.  As  he  did  so,  he  stammered 
out  some  words  of  surprise.  "  Is  it  possible  that 
this  is  the  little  black  lad  that  used  to  ride  the 
horse  to  water?  Well,  I  cannot  realize  it!" 

Mr.  Webster  approached  him.  They  embraced 
each  other ;  and  both  wept. 

"Is  it  possible,"  said  Mr.  Colby,  when  the  em 
barrassment  of  the  first  shock  of  recognition  was 
past,  "  that  you  have  come  up  here  to  see  me  ?  Is 
this  Daniel?  Why,  why,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  be 
lieve  my  senses.  Now,  sit  down.  I  am  glad,  oh, 
I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Daniel !  I  never  expected 
to  see  you  again.  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  I  am 
so  glad,"  he  went  on,  "  that  iny  life  has  been  spared 
that  I  might  see  you.  Why,  Daniel,  I  read  about 
you,  and  hear  about  you  in  all  ways ;  sometimes 
some  members  of  the  family  come  and  tell  us  about 
you ;  and  the  newspapers  tell  us  a  great  deal  about 
you,  too.  Your  name  seems  to  be  constantly  in  the 
newspapers.  They  say  that  you  are  a  great  man, 
that  you  are  a  famous  man ;  and  you  can't  tell  how 
delighted  I  am  when  I  hear  such  things.  But,  Daniel, 
the  time  is  short,  —  you  won't  stay  here  long,  —  I 
want  to  ask  you  one  important  question.  You  may 
be  a  great  man :  are  you  a  good  man  ?  Are  you 

27 


118  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

a  Christian  man  ?  Do  you  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  ?  That  is  the  only  question  that  is  worth 
asking  or  answering.  Are  you  a  Christian  ?  You 
know,  Daniel,  what  I  have  been :  I  have  been  one 
of  the  wickedest  of  men.  Your  poor  sister,  who 
is  now  in  heaven,  knows  that.  But  the  spirit  of 
Christ  and  of  Almighty  God  has  come  down  and 
plucked  me  as  a  brand  from  the  everlasting  burn 
ing.  I  am  here  now,  a  monument  to  his  grace. 
Oh,  Daniel,  I  would  not  give  what  is  contained 
within  the  covers  of  this  book  for  all  the  honors 
that  have  been  conferred  upon  men  from  the  crea 
tion  of  the  world  until  now.  For  what  good 
would  it  do  ?  It  is  all  nothing,  and  less  than  noth 
ing,  if  you  are  not  a  Christian,  if  you  are  not 
repentant.  If  you  do  not  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  in  sincerity  and  truth,  all  your  worldly 
honors  will  sink  to  utter  nothingness.  Are  you  a 
Christian  ?  Do  you  love  Christ  ?  You  have  not 
answered  me." 

All  this  was  said  in  the  most  earnest  and  even 
vehement  manner. 

"  John  Colby,"  replied  Mr.  Webster,  "  you  have 
asked  me  a  very  important  question,  and  one  which 
should  not  be  answered  lightly.  I  intend  to  give 
you  an  answer,  and  one  that  is  truthful,  or  I  won't 
give  you  any.  I  hope  that  I  am  a  Christian.  I 
profess  to  be  a  Christian.  But,  while  I  say  that, 
I  wish  to  add,  —  and  I  say  it  with  shame  and  con 
fusion  of  face,  —  that  I  am  not  such  a  Christian 
as  I  wish  I  were.  I  have  lived  in  the  world,  sur 
rounded  by  its  honors  and  its  temptations ;  and  ] 


RELIGIOUS    THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  419 

am  afraid,  John  Colby,  that  I  am  not  so  good  a 
Christian  as  I  ought  to  be.  I  am  afraid  I  have  not 
your  faith  and  your  hopes ;  but  still,  I  hope  and 
trust  that  I  am  a  Christian,  and  that  the  same 
grace  which  has  converted  you,  and  made  you  an 
heir  of  salvation,  will  do  the  same  for  me.  I  trust 
it ;  and  I  also  trust,  John  Colby,  —  and  it  won't  be 
long  before  our  summons  will  come,  —  that  we  shall 
meet  in  a  better  world,  and  meet  those  who  have 
gone  before  us,  whom  we  knew,  and  who  trusted 
in  that  same  divine,  free  grace.  It  won't  be  long. 
You  cannot  tell,  John  Colby,  how  much  delight  it 
gave  me  to  hear  of  your  conversion.  The  hearing 
of  that  is  what  has  led  me  here  to-day.  I  came  here 
to  see  with  my  own  eyes,  and  hear  with  my  own 
ears  the  story  from  a  man  that  I  know  and  remem 
ber  well.  What  a  wicked  man  you  used  to  be !  " 

"  0  Daniel !  "  exclaimed  John  Colby,  "  you  don't 
remember  how  wicked  I  was;  how  ungrateful  I 
was  ;  how  unthankful  I  was  !  I  never  thought  of 
God ;  I  never  cared  for  God ;  I  was  worse  than 
the  heathen.  Living  in  a  Christian  land,  with  the 
light  shining  all  around  me,  and  the  blessings  of 
Sabbath  teachings  everywhere  about  me,  I  was 
worse  than  a  heathen  until  I  was  arrested  by  the 
grace  of  Christ,  and  made  to  see  my  sinf  ulness,  and 
to  hear  the  voice  of  my  Saviour.  Now  I  am  only 
waiting  to  go  home  to  Him,  and  to  meet  your 
sainted  sister,  my  poor  wife.  And  I  wish,  Daniel, 
that  you  might  be  a  prayerful  Christian,  and  I 
trust  you  are.  Daniel,"  he  added,  with  deep  earn 
estness  of  voice,  "  will  you  pray  with  me  ?  " 


420  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

We  knelt  down,  and  Mr.  Webster  offered  a  most 
touching  and  eloquent  prayer.  As  soon  as  he  had 
pronounced  the  "  Amen,"  Mr.  Colby  followed  in 
a  most  pathetic,  stirring  appeal  to  God.  He  prayed 
for  the  family,  for  me,  and  for  everybody.  Then 
we  rose  ;  and  he  seemed  to  feel  a  serene  happi 
ness  in  having  thus  joined  his  spirit  with  that  of 
Mr.  Webster  in  prayer. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  what  can  we  give  you  ?  I 
don't  think  we  have  any  thing  that  we  can  give 
you." 

"  Yes,  you  have,"  replied  Mr.  Webster ;  "  you 
have  something  that  is  just  what  we  want  to  eat." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Colby. 

"  It  is  some  bread  and  milk,"  said  Mr.  Webster. 
"  I  want  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  for  myself  and 
my  friend." 

Very  soon  the  table  was  set,  and  a  white  cloth 
spread  over  it;  some  nice  bread  was  set  upon  it 
and  some  milk  brought,  and  we  sat  down  to  the 
table  and  eat.  Mr.  Webster  exclaimed  afterward  : 

"  Didn't  it  taste  good  ?  Didn't  it  taste  like  old 
times  ?  " 

The  brothers-in-law  soon  took  an  affectionate 
leave  of  each  other,  and  we  left.  Mr.  Webster 
could  hardly  restrain  his  tears.  When  we  got  into 
the  wagon  he  began  to  moralize. 

"  I  should  like,"  said  he,  "  to  know  what  the 
enemies  of  religion  would  say  to  John  Colby's 
conversion.  There  was  a  man  as  unlikely,  hu 
manly  speaking,  to  become  a  Christian  as  any  man 
I  ever  saw.  He  was  reckless,  heedless,  impious; 


RELIGIOUS    THOUGHTS  AND  FEELINGS.  421 

never  attended  church,  never  experienced  the 
good  influence  of  associating  with  religious  people. 
And  here  he  has  been  living  on  in  that  reckless 
way  until  he  has  got  to  be  an  old  man ;  until  a 
period  of  life  when  you  naturally  would  not  ex 
pect  his  habits  to  change :  and  yet  he  has  been 
brought  into  the  condition  in  which  we  have  seen 
him  to-day,  —  a  penitent,  trusting,  humble  believer. 
Whatever  people  may  say,  nothing,"  added  Mr. 
Webster, "  can  convince  me  that  any  thing  short 
of  the  grace  of  Almighty  God  could  make  such  a 
change  as  I,  with  my  own  eyes,  have  witnessed  in 
the  life  of  John  Colby." 

When  we  got  back  to  Franklin,  in  the  evening, 
we  met  John  Taylor  at  the  door.  Mr.  Webster 
called  out  to  him  :  — 

"  Well,  John  Taylor,  miracles  happen  in  these 
later  clays  as  well  as  in  the  days  of  old." 

"  What  now,  squire  ?  "  asked  John  Taylor. 

"  Why,  John  Colby  has  become  a  Christian. 
If  that  is  not  a  miracle,  what  is  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LAST  DAYS  AND  DEATH. 

ONE  of  the  causes  which,  with  little  doubt,  has 
tened  Mr.  Webster's  death,  was  the  accident  which 
befell  him  in  the  early  part  of  May,  1852.  He  was 
one  day  driving  from  Marshfield  to  Plymouth  with 
Mr.  Lanman,  his  secretary.  As  the  carriage  was 
ascending  a  hill,  the  body  of  the  vehicle  fell,  and 
they  both  were  violently  thrown  out.  Mr.  Web 
ster  was  thrown  headlong,  and  involuntarily  put 
out  his  hand  to  check  the  force  of  the  blow ;  and 
he  fell  upon  his  hand  and  badly  crushed  it.  He 
was  taken  up  and  carried  to  a  house  near  by, 
where  he  was  carefully  tended,  until  he  was  able 
to  be  safely  removed  to  Marshfield.  He  had  not 
recovered  from  this  injury  when  he  died. 

Mr.  Webster  told  me  something  connected  with 
this  accident,  which  moved  him  so  much  that,  as 
he  related  it,  tears  came  into  his  eyes.  In  Kings 
ton,  the  town  in  which  Mr.  Webster  was  thrown 
from  his  carriage,  there  lived  an  old  gentleman 
named  Joseph  Holmes,  —  a  peculiar,  energetic  man, 
of  considerable  wealth.  He  was  popularly  regarded 
as  cold,  solitary,  and  forbidding  in  disposition ;  and, 
although  Mr.  Webster  knew  him,  he  had  no  liking 


LAST  DAYS  AND  DEATH.  423 

or  sympathy  for  him.  When  Mr.  Webster  was 
taken  up  senseless,  and  carried  into  the  house,  the 
people  round  about,  very  much  excited  by  the 
news  of  the  accident,  gathered  in  groups  near 
the  door ;  and,  while  the  physician  was  being 
waited  for,  some  of  them  were  admitted  to  the 
room  where  the  wounded  statesman  lay.  Mr. 
Webster  suddenly  recovered  his  consciousness,  and 
looked  about  him.  He  knew  some  of  the  people, 
others  he  did  not ;  but  the  first  person  his  eyes 
rested  upon  was  old  Joseph  Holmes,  who  was  lean 
ing  over  his  bed  with  an  expression  of  intense  anxiety 
and  alarm.  When  fully  restored  to  his  senses,  Mr. 
Webster  said :  — 

"  Mr.  Holmes,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am  glad  to 
see  you." 

The  tears  rolled  down  the  old  man's  cheeks,  and 
he  turned  away,  saying,  — 

"  Thank  God,  he  is  safe  !  " 

Mr.  Webster  said  that  this  incident  moved  him 
very  much ;  for,  although  Mr.  Holmes  was  a  politi 
cal  friend,  they  had  no  special  acquaintance,  and 
it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  "  there  were  any 
tears  in  those  eyes." 

The  physician  who  was  summoned  to  attend  Mr. 
Webster  on  this  occasion  has  made  a  record  of  a 
touching  incident,  showing  alike  Mr.  Webster's 
strong  sense  of  gratitude  and  his  familiarity  with 
the  Scriptures. 

"  I  was  called  to  him  in  great  haste  as  a  physi 
cian,"  he  says,  "  he  (as  the  messenger  represented) 
being  thrown  from  his  carriage  and  nearly  dead. 


424  KEMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

After  making  all  necessary  inquiry,  and  he  becom 
ing  more  comfortable,  the  crowd  dispersed  and  left 
me  alone  with  him  and  his  private  secretary. 

"  While  I  was  dressing  the  wound  on  his  fore 
head,  which  was  much  contused  and  somewhat  lac 
erated,  Mrs .  D.,  the  lady  of  the  house,  entered  the 
door  of  the  chamber  and  passed  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  with  seeming  awe,  as  if  fearing  to 
approach.  Mr.  Webster,  casting  his  eyes  on  the 
woman  as  she  passed,  said  :  — 

" '  Madam,  how  very  diversified  is  the  lot  of 
humanity  in  this  our  world  !  A  certain  man,  pass 
ing  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  fell  among  thieves 
and  was  ill-treated.  A  man,  passing  from  Marsh- 
field  to  Plymouth,  fell  among  a  very  hospitable  set 
of  people  and  was  taken  care  of.' 

"  Behold  the  picture  !  here  lay  the  mighty  man, 
—  his  physical  powers  but  just  recovering  from  a 
shock  which  on  any  other  subject  would  proba 
bly  have  suspended  them  for  ever,  scarcely  awake 
as  yet  to  things  about  him ;  his  consciousness  of 
outward  life  rising,  like  the  rising  beams  of  a  sum 
mer's  morning,  calm  and  majestic,  his  first  utter 
ance  the  teachings  of  the  blessed  Jesus !  These 
teachings  and  precepts  of  his  Divine  Master  he 
applies  to  himself,  as  still  a  passing  pilgrim  of 
earth,  —  '  a  man  passing  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho/ 

ic  No  man  could  see  this  picture  as  I  saw  it, 
without  the  assurance  that,  although  '  all  that  is 
mortal  of  Daniel  Webster  is  no  more  for  ever/ 
he  '  still  lives,'  not  only  in  the  hearts  of  his  country- 


LAST  DAYS   AND  DEATH.  425 

men  by  his  counsels  of  wisdom,  but  that  '  mortality 
(with  him)  is  swallowed  up  of  life.' ' 

Early  in  July,  1852,  not  long  after  the  sitting  of 
the  Whig  National  Convention  at  Baltimore,  which, 
passing  Mr.Webster  by,  saw  fit  to  nominate  General 
Scott  for  the  Presidency,  I  accompanied  him  from 
Washington  to  Boston.  He  said  to  me,  one 
day:  — 

"  We  will  go  this  evening  as  far  as  Baltimore. 
That  will  make  the  journey  easier,  by  taking  a 
little  off  this  end  ;  and  then  we  will  take  the  train, 
when  it  comes  up  from  Washington  in  the  morning." 

As  the  weather  was  very  warm,  we  did  as  Mr. 
Webster  proposed.  At  Baltimore  we  repaired  to 
the  hotel,  and  occupied  the  same  room,  which  had 
two  beds  in  it.  Before  going  to  bed,  which  he  did 
quite  early,  he  took  some  kind  of  a  wash  (perhaps 
bay  rum)  from  his  trunk,  and  bathed  his  limbs. 
Meanwhile,  I  sat  by,  reading.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  his  legs  looked  somewhat  swollen,  especially 
the  left  one  ;  nor  did  he  appear  to  attempt  to  con 
ceal  the  fact  from  me.  He  saw  that  I  noticed  it, 
and  gave  his  head  a  significant  nod,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  You  see."  I  went  up  to  him  and  said  :  — 

"  Mr.  Webster,  your  leg  is  swollen." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Were  you  aware  of  it  ?  "  asked  I. 

«  Yes." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  it  alarms  me  :  does  any  physi 
cian  know  it  ?  " 

"  No ;  that,"  he  replied,  "  is  the  enemy  :  don't 
for  the  world  name  this  to  any  human  being.  I 


426          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

would  not  like  to  have  my  family  distressed  by 
such  a  revelation.  It  can  do  no  good ;  and  it  will 
come  to  their  knowledge  quite  soon  enough.  So, 
say  nothing  on  that  subject." 

I  made  no  mention  of  it.  That  was  the  first 
knowledge  I  had  of  his  trouble ;  nor  did  I  even 
then  fully  comprehend  the  magnitude  of  the  diffi 
culty.  He  returned  to  Marshfield,  went  to  Boston 
again,  and  then  back  to  Washington,  on  business 
connected  with  the  department,  he  being  then 
Secretary  of  State.  Remaining  there  a  few  days, 
he  returned  to  Boston,  and  went  to  Marshfield 
again.  There  were  by  this  time  unmistakable  evi 
dences  of  the  progress  of  the  disease  in  his  sys 
tem.  He  could  no  longer  conceal  it  from  others, 
and  he  did  not  attempt  to  do  so.  He  consulted 
Dr.  Porter,  a  respectable  country  physician,  one  of 
his  neighbors.  Dr.  Porter  advised  him  to  visit  Bos 
ton  and  consult  physicians  here.  He  followed  this 
counsel,  and  came  to  Boston.  As  it  was  the  sum 
mer  season,  many  people  were  away  from  the  city, 
with  their  families.  Instead  of  going  to  a  hotel, 
he  brought  a  servant  or  two  with  him,  and  went  to 
the  house  of  his  son,  Fletcher  Webster,  on  Cedar 
Street.  My  house  was  on  the  corner  of  West  Cedar 
and  Chestnut  Streets,  so  near  to  his  son's  house 
that  we  could  speak  across  to  each  other.  My 
own  family  were  out  of  town,  and  I  was  not  stop 
ping  at  my  house.  On  his  arrival,  he  sent  me  a 
message,  informing  me  where  he  was,  and  I  at  once 
went  to  him,  before  going  out  of  town  to  where 
my  family  was  stopping.  He  told  me  that  he  had 


LAST   DAYS  AND  DEATH.  427 

come  to  Boston  to  stay  ten  or  twenty  days,  as  the 
case  might  be,  for  medical  advice,  and  should  send 
that  day  to  Dr.  Jeffries,  who  lived  near  by  in  Cedar 
Street,  and  consult  him  in  regard  to  his  disease. 
He  did  so,  and  I  met  Dr.  Jeffries  there  when  I 
called  the  next  day.  On  the  second  day  after  his 
arrival  at  Fletcher's  I  received  a  note  from  him, 
saying  that  he  would  like  to  have  me  call,  if  I 
could  conveniently  do  so,  as  he  was  going  home  to 
Marshfield  the  next  morning.  I  was  surprised  on 
receiving  such  a  note,  because  I  supposed  he  was 
going  to  stay  long  enough  to  see  if  he  could  be 
benefited  by  skilled  medical  treatment.  I  went  to 
see  him  in  the  evening,  and  he  told  me  that  the 
cause  of  his  return  to  Marshfield  was,  that  Colonel 
Perkins  had  that  day  sent  him  a  note  proposing  to 
make  him  a  visit  at  Marshfield  the  next  day ;  not 
knowing,  of  course,  that  he  was  not  there. 

"  I  could  not  bear,"  said  he,  "  to  say  to  him  that 
I  was  not  at  home,  and  thus  lose  his  visit.  He  is  an 
old,  valued,  and  trusted  friend  of  many  years ;  I 
have  invited  him  many  times  to  visit  me  at  Marsh- 
field,  but  he  has  never  done  so  ;  he  has  now  found 
time  and  inclination  to  come,  and  I  want  to  see 
him  at  Marshfield.  I  have  sent  to  Mr.  Foster  to 
let  me  have  an  easy  carriage,  and  to  drive  me 
home." 

I  could  not  but  remark  the  great  thoughtfulness 
which  this  betrayed  on  his  part  for  the  comfort 
and  pleasure  of  others,  by  putting  himself  to  this 
great  pain  and  inconvenience.  That  was  the  last 
time  he  was  ever  in  Boston.  I  do  not  recollect  the 


428  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

exact  day  of  the  month,  but  it  was  about  the  mid 
dle  of  September.  He  returned  to  Marshfield  too 
much  exhausted  and  ill  to  see  his  guests  that 
night :  they  had  got  there  by  rail  before  him.  He 
was  obliged  to  go  immediately  to  his  chamber. 
From  that  time  he  began  to  fail  quite  perceptibly 
from  day  to  day ;  but  he  still  continued  about  his 
business,  keeping  up  his  correspondence  through 
the  agency  of  his  secretary,  dictating  important  des 
patches,  and  carrying  on  the  business  of  the  State 
department  from  that  sick  and  dying  chamber. 
Sometime  during  the  week  or  fortnight  after  that, 
I  visited  him  again  at  Marshfield.  It  was  on  a  Sat 
urday.  He  was  then  confined  to  his  chamber,  and 
was  under  the  care  and  treatment  of  the  doctors. 
Dr.  Jeffries  had  visited  him  several  times,  and  was 
in  consultation  with  Dr.  Porter,  who  went  to  him 
daily.  When  Sunday  morning  came  he  said  to 
me, — 

"I  wish  you  to  drive  to  church  with  Mrs. 
Webster/' 

"  I  shall  do  so  with  great  pleasure,"  I  replied. 

I  mentioned  his  wish  to  Mrs.  Webster.  She  said 
she  had  no  heart  to  go.  So  we  stayed  at  home, 
and  I  informed  Mr.  Webster  of  our  decision. 

"  Well,  then,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  you 
and  Mr.  Paige  to  go  up  to  the  tomb." 

Mr.  Paige  was  the  only  other  person  in  the  house, 
except  myself  and  Mrs.  Webster.  Mr.  Webster  had 
just  completed  a  tomb  in  a  lot  which  he  had  set 
apart  and  deeded  to  the  town  as  a  burying-place 
for  ever. 


LAST  DATS  AND  DEATH.          429 

Only  a  few  days  before  he  requested  me  to  go 
with  Mr.  Paige  to  the  tomb,  he  had  had  the  remains 
of  his  family,  which  had  been  interred  beneath  Saint 
Paul's  Church,  removed  and  deposited  in  this  new 
resting-place  :  they  were  of  his  first  wife,  her  child 
and  grandchild,  —  "  all  kindred  blood,"  as  he  ex 
pressed  it. 

Mr.  Webster  was  lying  in  bed  when  he  asked  me 
to  go  there. 

"  Wait  until  the  sun  is  a  little  up,"  said  he,  "  and 
then  walk  up  and  see  what  you  think  of  it." 

Mr.  Paige  and  I  accordingly  walked,  sadly 
enough,  across  the  field,  about  half  a  mile,  to 
the  site  of  the  tomb ;  and,  after  looking  at  it, 
we  returned. 

When  I  reached  the  door,  after  perhaps  an 
hour's  absence,  Mrs.  Webster  met  me,  and  said 
that  Mr.  Webster  was  promising  himself  to  come 
down  and  dine  with  us. 

"  He  cannot  do  so,"  she  said ;  "  he  is  not  able ; 
I  pray  that  he  may  not.  But  he  seems  to  be  set 
upon  it.  I  wish  that,  without  saying  that  I  have 
asked  it,  you  would  try  and  persuade  him  not  to 
make  the  attempt;  for  I  am  afraid  it  will  hurt 
him  to  come  down." 

When  I  went  into  his  bed-room,  he  was  very 
cheerful ;  he  inquired  about  the  weather,  whether 
I  had  seen  the  tomb,  and  how  I  liked  it.  I  replied 
that  the  fence  had  been  put  up,  and  every  thing 
was  as  it  should  be.  Then  he  said,  sadly :  — 

"  It  will  get  more  occupants  soon."  He  hastily 
turned  the  subject,  and  remarked :  — 


430  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTEli. 

*'I  have  been  studying  natural  history,  since 
you  went  away.  Here  are  these  little  leeches :  to 
see  them  you  would  say,  What  can  such  creatures 
as  those  be  made  for?  But  when  they  are  applied, 
and  have  dug  as  they  have  at  me,  five  or  six  of 
them,  for  two  hours,  to  extract  this  vitiated  blood, 
you  see  then  what  the  purpose  of  the  Almighty 
was  in  making  them.  Nothing  is  made  in  vain," 
he  added,  earnestly.  "  Every  thing  of  that  sort, 
to  the  thoughtful  mind,  makes  one  realize  the 
goodness  of  God  to  his  creatures.  He  has  made 
every  thing  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  and  well- 
being  of  his  creatures.  By  the  way,  did  you  see 
the  sheep  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  as  you  came 
along  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  a  very  handsome  flock 
it  is." 

Mr.  Webster,  as  I  have  said,  was  very  fond  of 
sheep. 

"  Well,"  remarked  he,  "  I  suppose  they  are  car 
rying  their  heads  up  pretty  high  now;"  and  he 
laughed.  "  They  begin  to  think,  I  suppose,"  he 
went  on,  "  that  nobody  in  Marshfield  can  eat  mut 
ton;  but  one  of  these  days,  friend  Harvey,  we 
will  make  them  laugh  out  of  the  other  side  of 
their  mouths.  We  will  make  them  sing  a  differ 
ent  song." 

Then,  speaking  of  the  cook,  he  added  :  — 

"  Monica  is  roasting  as  nice  a  leg  of  mutton  as 
was  ever  put  upon  a  man's  table.  It  was  ripe 
to-day.  It  is  the  ninth  day  since  it  was  slaugh 
tered,  and  it  has  hung  in  a  place  where  it  has  kept 


LAST  DAYS  AND  DEATH.          431 

all  its  juices,  and  arrived  at  just  the  right  condition. 
I  have  ordered  it  to  be  cooked.  Friend,  it  is  for 
your  dinner ;  and  I  am  going  down  to  dine  with 
you  to-day  off  that  mutton." 

"  It  would  give  us  great  pleasure  to  see  you 
down  to  dinner,''  said  I ;  "  but  I  suppose  you  are 
joking." 

"I  never  was  more  in  earnest  in  my  life  — 
never,"  he  answered. 

"But,"  said  I,  "pray,  Mr.  Webster,  wouldn't  it 
be  injurious  to  you?  Wouldn't  you  suffer  from 
such  an  effort?" 

"  I  am  coming  to  dine  with  you  to-day,  suffer 
or  no  suffer." 

I  saw  there  was  nothing  further  to  be  said.  By 
that  time  it  was  one  o'clock,  or  quarter  past. 

"  I  will  excuse  you,"  said  he,  "  and  ask  you  to 
call  William  Bean." 

Bean,  the  valet,  was  called,  and  began  the  pro 
cess  of  shaving  and  dressing  his  master.  I  left 
the  room,  and  went  down  and  told  Mrs.  Webster 
that  persuasion  in  that  quarter  was  useless ;  that 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  try  it.  I  think  that 
Bean  was  two  hours  in  making  him  ready.  He 
shaved  him,  bathed  him,  and  dressed  him.  As  the 
time  for  dinner  approached,  —  three  o'clock  was 
the  hour  for  the  Sunday  dinner,  —  Mrs.  Webster 
left  the  library  where  Mr.  Paige  and  myself  were, 
went  to  his  room,  and  came  back  and  reported. 

"  He  is  making  a  desperate  effort  to  come,"  she 
said ;  "  I  dread  his  doing  so,  but  there  is  nothing  to 
be  said." 


432          REMINISCENCES  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

At  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  before  three,  the 
library  door  being  ajar,  I  heard  a  movement,  which 
soon  became  a  tramping  down  the  broad  stair 
way  into  the  hall.  I  immediately  left  my  seat 
and  went  into  what  was  called  the  music-room, 
towards  the  stairs.  Just  there  I  met  him.  He 
was  leaning  heavily  on  Bean's  arm;  and  it  was 
then  that  the  full  force  and  gravity  of  his  sick 
ness  struck  my  eye ;  for  when  in  bed  he  did  not 
seem  seriously  ill.  He  was  dressed  as  carefully 
and  elegantly  as  I  ever  saw  him :  he  was  always 
very  particular  about  his  dress.  He  had  on  a  blue 
coat,  buff  vest,  black  pantaloons,  white  cravat,  and 
collar  turned  down.  He  passed  through  the  door 
of  the  music-room,  connecting  it  with  the  hall. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  me  enter  from  the  other  side 
of  the  room,  he  stopped,  straightened  up  to  his  full 
height,  and  paused.  One  of  his  beautiful  smiles 
came  over  his  face,  and  he  said :  — 

"  Now,  William,  I  will  dispense  with  you ;  you 
can  leave  me." 

I  immediately  approached,  when  he  took  both 
my  hands,  and  kissed  me  on  the  cheek. 

"  Now,  then,  if  you  will  give  me  your  arm,  we 
will  proceed,"  said  he. 

He  took  my  arm,  and,  at  a  very  slow  and  deliber 
ate  pace,  we  crossed  the  music-room  and  entered  the 
library,  which  was  a  large  and  elegant  apartment. 
There  was  a  little  fire  in  the  grate.  Meanwhile, 
Mrs.  Webster,  in  her  thoughtful  attention,  believ 
ing  that  he  would  find  himself  unable  to  sit  at  the 
table,  had  put  a  pillow  on  the  very  broad  sofa, 


LAST   DAYS   AND   DEATH.  433 

moved  back  the  library  chair  from  where  it  usually 
stood,  and  caused  the  sofa  to  be  put  in  its  place. 
As  we  came  along  to  the  sofa,  she  said,  — 

"  Here  is  a  pillow  for  you,  my  dear,  to  lie  clown." 

He  straightened  up,  looked  at  the  pillow,  and 
then  at  me. 

-  "  I  don't  want  any  pillow,"  he  said  ;  "  I  came 
down  here  to  dine,  not  to  go  to  bed.  I  came  down 
here  to  dine  with  my  friends."  Speaking  to  the 
servant,  he  added,  "  Roll  back  the  sofa ;  replace 
the  chair." 

The  chair  was  a  large  library,  morocco  chair. 
His  order  was  obeyed.  To  get  into  the  chair  he 
had  to  turn  around ;  and,  leaning  heavily  upon  my 
arm  until  he  got  quite  opposite,  he  sank  heavily 
into  it,  and  leaned  his  head  back,  completely 
exhausted,  —  without,  apparently,  having  strength 
enough  to  reach  his  hand  out  to  mine.  He 
pointed  to  the  end  of  the  sofa,  and  I  sat  down ; 
he  then  held  his  hand  out,  and  I  grasped  it.  He 
said  nothing  for  perhaps  a  minute.  Then  he  looked 
at  his  wife,  at  Mr.  Paige,  and  at  me.  He  closed  his 
eyes,  and  threw  his  head  back ;  then  he  looked  at 
us  again. 

"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  better  than  all  the  medicine 
of  all  the  doctors,  —  the  countenances  of  one's 
friends !  What  is  so  consoling  ?  What  can  give 
such  comfort  to  a  sick  man  as  the  countenances 
of  his  friends  ?  " 

He  ceased  speaking.  We  sat  in  silence.  Just 
then  the  servant  came  in  and  announced  to  Mrs. 
Webster  that  dinner  was  ready.  I  immediately 

28 


434  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

rose,  as  did  Mr.  Webster  and  Mr.  Paige.  We 
stood  around  him,  ready  to  assist  him  to  the  table. 
He  looked  again  from  one  to  the  other,  as  if  a 
little  irresolute.  At  last,  with  a  very  bland  smile, 
he  turned  to  Mr.  Paige,  calling  him,  I  think,  by 
his  Christian  name. 

"  Willie,"  said  he,  "  will  you  take  my  place  at 
the  dinner  ?  "  He  turned  to  me  and  added,  — 

"  My  friend,  will  you  hand  Mrs.  Webster  to  the 
dinner  table  ?  I  will  not  go  just  now  ;  I  will  come 
in  a  few  minutes  ;  but  do  you  go." 

Mrs.  Webster  took  my  arm,  and  we  went  to  the 
dinner  table,  with  sad,  heavy  feelings.  Not  a 
word  was  uttered  ;  we  could  say  nothing.  Soup 
was  passed,  merely  tasted,  and  put  aside.  The 
mutton,  though  quite  as  good  as  he  had  described 
it,  was  scarcely  touched. 

I  had  not  been  seated  long  at  table  when  Bean 
came  to  me,  and  said  that  Mr.  Webster  wished  to 
talk  with  me.  I  accordingly  went  to  him,  as  he 
lay  on  the  sofa ;  and  then  ensued  the  conversation, 
which  I  have  given  in  a  previous  chapter,  about 
the  nomination  of  Scott,  the  destiny  of  the  Whig 
party,  and  the  character  of  General  Pierce. 

Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  the  doctor  came, 
and  Mrs.  Webster  appeared  at  the  door  to  tell  her 
husband  of  his  arrival. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Webster,  "not  yet;  I  must 
have  this  conversation  out ; "  and  he  locked  the 
door. 

"  Now,"  he  went  on,  "  for  a  few  personal  mat 
ters.  You  are  going  in  the  morning,  and  very 


LAST  DAYS  AND   DEATH.  435 

likely  I  shall  never  have  another  opportunity  to 
speak  of  them.  You  know  that  I  have  received  a 
large  fee  lately  [that  in  the  Goodyear  case],  and 
have  applied  it  to  the  payment  of  my  debts.  If  I 
could  get  two  more  such,  I  could  die  free  of  debt. 
It  has  been  my  constant  aim  and  wish  to  pay  my 
debts.  They  are  not  very  large." 

This  was  quite  true.  He  had  reduced  them  very 
much  in  the  previous  five  years. 

"  Then,"  he  added,  "I  should  like  to  provide 
something  for  my  family,  and  not  leave  them  to 
the  cold  charity  of  the  world.  But  Providence 
guides  and  overrules ;  I  cannot  help  it,  and  there 
fore  I  submit  to  it.  I  should  very  much  have  pre 
ferred  to  have  my  widow  dependent  upon  no  one 
for  her  support,  after  my  decease.  She  is  a  mem 
ber  of  a  wealthy  family,  and  has  connections  not 
only  by  reason  of  her  marriage  with  me,  but  in 
her  father's  family ;  so  that  she  will  be  able  to  live 
without  being  indebted  to  any  one,  —  not,  per 
haps,  in  the  style  that  she  has  hitherto  lived,  or 
that  I  desire  that  she  should.  But  she  is  not  ex 
travagant  ;  she  is  frugal  and  careful.  Then  there 
is  Mr.  Appleton,  the  husband  of  my  poor  Julia 
who  has  gone  to  heaven,  and  who  has  left  him 
with  four  children ;  he  is  a  man  of  fortune,  and  I 
need  therefore  have  no  anxiety  for  their  future, 
so  far  as  money  is  concerned :  I  leave  them  with 
out  any  regrets  on  that  score.  Now  I  come  to 
Fletcher.  When  I  think  of  poor  Fletcher  and  his 
family,  my  heart  bleeds.  He  has  not  been  success 
ful.  He  has  much  talent,  but  he  does  not  seem  to 


436  REMINISCENCES    OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

have  the  knack  of  getting  along  in  the  world  and 
making  money.  I  wish  that  I  could  feel  that  he 
and  his  family  were  provided  for ;  but  that  is  out 
of  the  question.  All  I  can  say  to  you  is,  that  I 
am  quite  sure  that  my  friends  will  not  see  my  own 
son  driven  to  the  necessity  of  begging  his  bread. 
There  I  must  leave  it,  in  the  hands  of  an  all -wise 
God;  and  through  His  providence  I  shall  trust 
that  Fletcher  will  be  taken  care  of." 

It  was  now  nearly  nine  o'clock.  There  was 
some  commotion  outside,  and  Mrs.  Webster  was 
evidently  worried  about  his  undertaking  so  long 
a  conversation. 

u  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,"  he  said  to  her : 
"  I  have  sought  this  conversation  ;  and  whether  it 
makes  me  worse  or  not,  it  has  relieved  me.  Now, 
you  [speaking  to  me]  must  go  to-morrow  morning 
early;  but  come  and  see  me  again  just  as  soon  as 
you  can.'' 

"I  will  come  right  down,"  I  replied,  "just  as 
soon  as  my  business  arrangements  will  permit." 

"  People  will  inquire  of  you  what  my  bodily  con 
dition  is.  I  do  not  wish  to  mislead  or  lie  to  any 
body,  nor  have  you  do  it ;  still,  I  do  not  want  to 
be  the  subject  of  newspaper  comment  as  to  my 
health.  Now,  if  you  will  assist  me  into  the  other 
room  [a  little  room  where  he  wrote  his  letters],  I 
will  dictate  a  letter  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States  before  I  retire." 

He  sat  down  at  the  table,  took  his  pen,  and  with 
a  very  significant  look  began  to  write ;  putting, 
perhaps,  the  date  upon  the  letter. 


LAST   DAYS   AND  DEATH.  437 

"Now  you  can  say/'  he  remarked,  "and  it  will 
be  true,  that  you  saw  Mr.  Webster,  the  Sunday 
night  before  you  left  him,  writing  at  his  table. 
You  can  say  that  truly,  can  you  not  ?  It  will  be 
an  answer,  and  save  me  from  annoyance." 

He  then  dictated  a  brief  letter  to  President 
Fillmore. 

That  Sabbath  evening  was  a  melancholy  one, 
succeeding  a  sad  day.  It  was  one  of  the  last  occa 
sions  on  which  he  sat  up ;  but  he  was  as  anxious  as 
ever  for  the  comfort  of  his  guests.  He  attended  to 
every  little  thing,  as  though  each  was  a  matter  of 
importance.  He  insisted  that  every  one  should 
do  promptly  what  belonged  to  him  to  do.  It  was 
curious  to  observe  his  particularity  in  this  respect. 
We  had  talked  a  great  deal  during  the  day,  and 
the  time  came  for  him  to  retire.  Calling  his  black 
servant,  William  Bean,  he  asked  him,  — 
"  Is  Porter  Wright  in  the  kitchen  ?  " 
"  No,  sir,"  replied  William,  "  he  has  gone  back 
to  his  house." 

"  Tell  Baker  to  come  here." 
When  he  came,  Mr.  Webster  said  :  — 
"Baker,  go  down  to  Porter  Wright's,  and  tell 
him  that  I  want  to  see  him  in  about  five  minutes ; 
and  tell  Monica  to  come  here." 

Monica  came  in,  and  he  said  to  her :  — 
"  Monica,  Mr.  Harvey  is  going  home  to-morrow 
morning.    I  don't  want  him  to  go  without  the  best 
breakfast  he  ever  had ;  and  you  know  how  to  give 
it  to  him." 

"  I  do,  indeed,  Mr.  Webster." 


438  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  To-morrow  morning,  Monica,  have  the  table 
spread,  and  a  little  fire  built  in  the  dining-room. 
Let  me  see.  In  the  first  place,  give  him  the  best 
cup  of  coffee  you  can ;  then,  some  toast ;  broil  a 
steak;  give  him  a  bit  of  ham,  and  a  boiled  egg. 
Bake  a  potato;  and  put  them  all  on  the  table 
smoking  hot,  precisely  at  half-past  five  by  the 
Shrewsbury  clock." 

"It  shall  all  be  done  just  as  you  say,  sir." 

"  And  you,  William,  to-morrow  morning  at  ex 
actly  five  o'clock,  —  right  on  the  moment,  —  take 
a  cup  of  shaving-water  to  Mr.  Harvey's  room  ;  and 
knock  on  the  door  till  you  get  an  answer,  if  you 
have  to  pound  your  knuckles  off.  And  when  Mr. 
Harvey  gives  you  an  answer,  set  down  the  shaving- 
water,  and  ask  him  for  his  clothes.  Take  them  out, 
and  give  them  a  good  brushing.  Porter  Wright 
[who  had  just  come  in],  Mr.  Harvey  is  going  to 
the  depot  to-morrow  morning.  Have  the  horses 
harnessed  and  the  carriage  at  the  door  at  six 
o'clock,  to  a  minute.  Have  it  at  the  library 
door,  and  the  coachman  on  the  box ;  put  f Tren 
ton'  and  ' Morgan'  into  Mrs.  Webster's  light 
carriage." 

"  Now,"  said  he,  turning  to  me,  "  I  will  take 
your  arm,  and  go  upstairs." 

He  leaned  heavily  on  my  arm,  and  went  up  to 
his  room.  We  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  each 
other,  and  the  next  morning  I  left  Marshfield  for 
Boston. 

It  was  not  long  after  this,  when  his  life  was 
rapidly  drawing  to  a  close,  that  he  one  day  called 


LAST  DAYS  AND   DEATH.  439 

Mr.  Hatch,  one  of  his  men,  into  his  sick  room. 
When  he  came  in,  Mr.  Webster  said :  — 

"  Mr.  Hatch,  who  is  now  in  the  room  ?  " 

"No  one  but  William,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  well ;  William  will  tell  no  tales.  I  have 
a  secret  for  you.  I  want  you  to  go,  as  soon  as  it 
is  dark,  and  hang  a  lantern  at  the  mast-head  of  my 
little  shallop  behind  the  house,  and  raise  the  colors. 
Be  sure  and  keep  that  light  burning  every  night 
as  long  as  I  live.  Don't  fail  to  do  this.  I  want  to 
keep  my  flag  flying  and  my  light  burning  till  I 
die." 

This  little  pleasure-boat  was  very  dear  to  Mr. 
Webster,  because  it  once  belonged  to  his  beloved 
son  Edward.  From  the  window  of  his  sick  room, 
as  he  lay  in  bed,  he  could  see  the  light  at  the  mast 
head.  He  ordered  it  to  be  put  up  secretly,  that  the 
sight  of  it  might  give  his  family  an  agreeable  sur 
prise  when  they  saw  it  for  the  first  time  glimmer 
ing  in  the  darkness. 

When  Mrs.  Webster  came  into  the  room  that 
evening,  he  asked  her  if  she  could  see  the  ducks 
in  the  pond.  On  going  to  the  window,  she  was 
astonished  to  observe  the  lantern  at  the  mast-head. 
On  the  very  last  day  that  he  went  downstairs 
from  his  chamber,  —  when  he  insisted  on  being 
helped  down  by  his  friends,  —  he  put  on  his  hat, 
and  looked  out  on  this  sheet  of  water  behind  the 
house.  There  had  been  an  autumnal  gale  the  night 
before.  He  looked  out,  and  cried  cheerfully,  — 

"  Halloo !  I  perceive  that  the  home  squadron 
has  outridden  the  gale  !  " 


440  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

He  then  returned  to  his  room. 

A  week  or  ten  days  before  he  died,  he  insisted 
on  having  the  cattle  driven  up  the  lane  in  front  of 
the  house ;  and  he  gazed  on  them  with  as  much 
delight  as  a  child  on  his  playthings.  He  wished 
them  to  be  girted,  which  was  done  by  his  farmer.. 
Mr.  "Webster  made  guesses  as  to  how  much  they 
would  measure,  and  watched  the  operation  with 
the  liveliest  interest. 

I  did  not  see  Mr.  Webster  again,  after  the  Sun 
day  interview  which  I  have  given,  until  two  weeks 
after,  on  the  Saturday  previous  to  his  death.  I  had 
been  to  Vermont  on  business  connected  with  the 
railway  of  which  I  was  then  treasurer ;  and  had 
received  daily  bulletins,  which  Mr.  Webster  asked 
his  secretary  to  send  to  me,  as  to  the  condition 
of  his  health.  These  bulletins  made  no  men 
tion  of  any  marked  change.  In  one  of  them 
there  was  a  little  encouragement.  He  said  that 
the  swelling  of  the  abdomen  had  decreased,  and 
this  was  regarded  by  the  doctors  as  a  favorable 
symptom.  Otherwise,  he  remained  about  the  same. 
I  returned  to  Boston  on  Friday  morning,  and  then 
received  news  of  a  sudden  and  serious  turn  in  his 
disease.  He  had  begun  to  vomit  blood,  which  was 
an  indication  of  a  speedy  termination  of  life.  I 
started  the  next  morning  for  Marshfield.  When 
I  arrived  there,  Mr.  Webster  was  surrounded  by 
his  family ;  or  rather,  they  were  in  the  house,  but 
not  in  his  room.  No  one  was  then  admitted  to  see 
him  except  his  doctor.  Mrs.  Webster  was  in  great 
distress ;  his  life  had  become  a  question  of  hours.  I 


LAST   DAYS   AND   DEATH.  441 

had  been  telegraphed  to  come,  and  Mr.  Jackson 
had  been  down  to  meet  me  two  or  three  times.  Of 
course  all  hope  was  over.  I  met  Fletcher,  who 
seemed  much  gratified  that  I  had  come. 

I  found  Mr.  Webster  at  times  suffering  terribly 
from  his  fits  of  vomiting  blood ;  at  other  times  he 
was  calm  and  free  from  pain.  Dr.  Jeffries,  his  at 
tending  physician,  and  Dr.  Porter,  had  intimated 
that,  unless  he  had  some  important  communication 
to  make  concerning  his  affairs,  it  would  not  be  well 
that  he  should  see  any  one,  as  talking  would  only 
make  him  worse,  and  increase  his  sufferings. 
Fletcher  said :  — 

61 1  want  Mr.  Harvey  to  see  my  father  ;  he  does 
not  know  he  is  here." 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  replied  Dr.  Jeffries ; 
"  I  have  forbidden  everybody." 

I  said  to  Fletcher  that  there  were  others  who 
should  see  him,  especially  his  relatives ;  and  that 
while  I,  of  course,  was  anxious  to  see  his  father  if 
it  could  be  allowed,  I  had  no  desire  to  go  to  him 
in  an  invidious  manner. 

"  You  must  see  him,"  said  Fletcher:  "  he  is 
anxious  to  see  you." 

Being  thus  urged,  I  could  no  longer  refuse  to  go 
in.  The  day  was  rapidly  wearing  away,  and  night 
was  coming  on.  Dr.  Mason  Warren,  who  had  been 
sent  for,  was  expected  every  moment.  We  were 
all  gathered  very  near  the  door  of  Mr.  Webster's 
room,  sitting  on  the  stairs.  Fletcher  passed  in  and 
out,  bringing  news  of  his  condition.  In  a  few  mo 
ments  he  came  and  whispered  to  me,  — 


442  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

"  Now  you  must  go  in  and  see  father.  He  is 
lying  perfectly  free  from  pain  ;  and  he  looks  like 
a  king.'' 

"  Does  he  know  I  am  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No  ;  and  I  do  not  wish  him  to  know,  until  you 
yourself  tell  him." 

"  I  would  rather  not  go  in/'  said  I,  "  until  the 
doctor  permits  it." 

Fletcher  then  asked  the  doctor  if  there  was  any 
objection.  He  replied  that  he  would  no  longer 
object,  and  that  probably  Mr.  Webster  would  not 
now  be  disturbed  by  my  going  in.  I  then  followed 
Fletcher  to  the  door,  and  went  in.  The  room  was 
not  large  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  entered,  Mr.  Webster 
could  see  me,  for  the  candles  were  burning  brightly. 
As  soon  as  he  saw  me,  he  exclaimed  in  a  very  dis 
tinct  voice :  — 

"  Why,  is  it  possible  that  this  is  you  ?  I  thought 
you  would  come.  Come  to  me." 

I  at  once  passed  across  the  room,  very  much 
touched,  and  weeping.  When  I  reached  the  bed 
side,  he  held  out  both  hands,  and  put  his  arms 
around  my  neck  and  kissed  me.  Then  he  said  : 

"  Kiss  me." 

"  It  is  distressing  to  see  you  suffering  so,  Mr. 
Webster,"  I  said,  "  and  so  ill." 

"  I  am  not  so  ill  but  that  I  know  you.  I  am 
sick,  but  I  am  not  too  sick  to  call  down  blessings 
on  you,  faithful  friend,  —  true  in  life,  true  in 
death.  I  shall  be  dead  to-morrow,"  he  added, 
softly. 

"  Do   not  leave   this   room   until   I   am   gone. 


LAST   DAYS   AND   DEATH.  443 

Promise  me  that  you  will  not."  He  reached  out 
his  arms  to  me,  and  again  kissed  me. 

"  God  bless  you,  faithful  friend  !  "  he  said ;  re 
peating  the  words  several  times. 

He  still  kept  his  arms  around  my  neck.  His 
hands,  as  he  continued  to  hold  me  close  to  him, 
felt  as  cold  as  ice.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  moment.  A 
few  moments  later  I  perceived  that  some  one  was 
gently  removing  his  hands  from  me.  It  was  the 
doctor.  I  left  the  bed-side.  Those  who  had  been 
waiting  on  the  stairs  came  into  the  room,  —  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Paige,  Mr.  George  Curtis,  Mr.  Appleton. 
and  others. 

"  Don't,  don't  leave  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Webster,  im 
ploringly,  as  I  drew  away  from  him.  "  You  prom 
ised  that  you  would  not  leave  the  room  until  I  was 
dead." 

"  I  shall  keep  my  promise,"  I  replied. 

Mr.  Webster  then  took  a  loving  leave  of  those 
who  had  come  in,  shook  hands  with  them  all,  and 
called  them  by  name.  After  this  agitating  scene, 
the  doctor  thought  it  best  that  Mr.  Webster  should 
try  to  get  some  sleep,  and  asked  those  who  had 
come  in  to  leave  the  room.  All  retired,  except 
myself.  A  few  moments  after,  Dr.  Warren  came. 
Mr.  Webster  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  and  said  to 
him  that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  to  send  for  him. 
It  was,  he  said,  the  last  night  that  he  should  trouble 
any  one  on  earth.  He  then  inquired  for  the  elder 
Dr.  Warren,  and  sent  a  friendly  message  to  him. 

After  this,  he  lay  apparently  comfortable  for  an 
hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  half.  They  were  constantly 


444  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

giving  him  opiates  till  Ms  last  moment.  He  lin 
gered  on  some  hours  into  the  night,  and  as  the 
clock  struck  two,  Daniel  Webster  quietly  passed 
away  from  earth. 

I  wish  to  add  to  this  account  of  my  illustrious 
friend's  last  hours  that  which  Dr.  Jeffries  gave, 
soon  after  Mr.  Webster's  death,  at  a  meeting  of  the 
Southern  District  Medical  Society  at  New  Bedford. 
On  this  occasion  Dr.  Jeffries  said  :  — 

"  After  the  injury  which  Mr.  Webster  received 
by  a  fall  from  his  carriage,  he  went  to  Boston,  and 
was  under  my  professional  care  for  several  days 
previous  to  his  address  in  Faneuil  Hall.  I  had 
visited  him  two  or  three  times  daily,  and  had  re 
duced  his  diet  below  his  usual  mode  of  living,  in 
consequence  of  inflammation  in  his  arm.  On  the 
day  of  his  address,  I  visited  him  twice  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  dressed  his  arm  particularly  for  the  occa 
sion.  After  dressing  it  I  said :  ( I  have  kept  you 
very  low,  sir,  for  some  time ;  and  as  you  have  an 
arduous  duty  to  perform  to-day,  I  think  I  shall 
advise  you  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  at  dinner,  and 
to  eat  a  little  meat/ 

"  He  was  walking  across  the  room  at  this  time, 
when  he  stopped,  and,  turning  towards  me,  replied 
in  a  familiar  but  decided  manner,  — 

"  '  I  don't  know,  Doctor  ;  I  think  I  shall  not.  I 
have  found  the  benefit  of  temperance.  I  shall 
take  a  cup  of  soup,  retire  to  my  chamber  and  lie 
down  for  two  hours  ;  then  I  shall  dress  and  be 
ready  for  his  Honor  the  Mayor  when  he  calls  to 
attend  me  to  Faneuil  Hall.' 


LASJ  DAYS   AND   DEATH.  445 

"  At  his  request  I  went  with  him  to  the  Hall,  and 
am  fully  convinced  that  he  had  not  on  that  day,  or 
for  some  days  preceding,  taken  even  the  smallest 
amount  of  stimulating  drinks.  I  admit  that  Mr. 
Webster  was  in  the  occasional  use  of  wine,  and 
sometimes  of  other  alchoholic  drinks,  and  gave  as 
probable  reason  that  it  was  much  more  the  cust 
in  Washington  than  in  this  city  ;  but  I  confidently 
express  the  opinion  that  no  man  can  be  produced, 
who  can  show  that  he  knows,  —  although  many 
might  erroneously  presume,  as  in  the  instance 
above  referred  to,  —  that  his  great  intellect  was 
ever  clouded  by  stimulants ;  or  that  he  was  un 
fitted  at  any  time,  even  for  the  production  of 
State  papers. 

"  At  the  time  of  his  reception  by  the  City,  Mr. 
Webster  appeared  to  possess  his  full  intellectual 
strength.  In  reply  to  an  apprehension  expressed 
by  me  that  morning,  he  said  :  — 

" '  I  feel  as  able  now  to  make  a  speech  of  two 
hours'  duration  as  ever  I  did  in  my  life/ 

"  But  he  was  laboring  under  great  physical  debil 
ity,  requiring  the  constant  assistance  of  an  attend 
ant  about  his  person.  This  was  dispensed  with,  by 
a  great  effort  on  his  part,  as  was  also  a  sling  for 
his  arm,  because  he  did  not  wish  to  appear  before 
his  fellow-citizens  as  a  sick  man. 

"  I  have  always  found  Mr.  Webster  perfectly  obe 
dient  as  a  patient,  especially  in  following  strictly 
the  diet  and  regimen  prescribed  for  him. 

"  The  nature  of  the  complaints  for  which  I  have 
attended  him  has  required  that  these  restrictions 


446  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

should  be  sometimes  severe,  and  on  one  important 
occasion  were  directly  opposed  to  his  own  view  of 
his  case  ;  but  he  nevertheless  yielded  implicitly  to 
my  instructions. 

"  In  his  last  sickness  he  required  the  most  exact 
admeasurement  of  such  stimulants  as  were  thought 
advisable,  and  would  take  none  without  my  express 
directions. 

"  I  am  also  assured  that  he  always  practised  the 
greatest  self-denial  whenever  especially  called  upon 
for  the  exertion  of  his  intellectual  powers.  The 
mighty  productions  of  his  pen  exhibit  the  clear 
ness  of  his  intellect  as  much  as  the  profoundness 
of  his  thought.  .The  most  rigid  casuist  may  be  de 
fied  to  point  to  one  line  in  his  voluminous  works 
which  indicated  the  weakness  of  the  inebriate." 

At  a  late  hour  upon  the  night  of  his  death,  Mr. 
Webster  remarked  to  Dr.  Jeffries  that  he  had  better 
lie  down  and  get  some  rest.  Dr.  Jeffries,  knowing 
the  character  of  the  man,  suggested  that  he  should 
read  a  hymn  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  favorite 
of  Mr.  Webster.  Mr.  Webster  having  made  an 
intimation  in  the  affirmative,  Dr.  Jeffries  read  the 
following  hymn  :  — 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood 

Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins  ; 
And  sinners,  plunged  beneath  that  flood, 

Lose  all  their  guilty  stains. 

The  dying  thief  rejoiced  to  see 

That  fountain  in  his  day  ; 
And  there  may  I,  though  vile  as  he, 

Wash  all  my  sins  away. 


LAST  DAYS  AND  DEATH.          447 

Thou  dying  Lamb  !  thy  precious  blood 

Should  never  lose  its  power, 
Till  all  the  ransomed  Church  of  God 

Are  saved,  to  sin  no  more. 

Since  first  by  faith  I  saw  the  stream 

Thy  flowing  wounds  supply, 
Redeeming  love  has  been  my  theme, 

And  shall  be  till  I  die. 

And  when  this  feeble,  stammering  tongue 

Lies  silent  in  the  grave, 
Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song, 

I'll  sing  Thy  power  to  save. 

After  Dr.  Jeffries  had  finished  reading  this  hymn, 
Mr.  Webster,  in  a  clear,  strong  voice,  replied, 
"  Amen,  amen,  amen  !  " 

According  to  universal  custom  in  the  town  of 
Marshfield,  on  the  Sabbath  of  Mr.  Webster's  death, 
between  the  hours  of  seven  and  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  bell  of  the  parish  church  was  rung 
violently,  to  announce  to  the  startled  inhabitants 
within  hearing  that  a  death  had  occurred  among 
them.  Then  it  was  struck  three  times  three  as  a 
signal  that  a  male  person  had  died.  Next,  the 
bell  was  struck  slowly  and  deliberately  seventy 
strokes,  to  denote  the  age  of  the  dead ;  and 
then  there  went  up  a  mournful  voice  from  every 
house,  "  It  must  be  that  Daniel  Webster  is  dead," 
—  "  The  pride  of  our  nation  has  fallen,"  "  Our  great 
neighbor  and  townsman  is  no  more." 

The  spot  where  Daniel  Webster  reposes  is  upon 
elevated  land,  and  overlooks  the  sea,  his  mammoth 


448  REMINISCENCES   OF  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

farm,  the  First  Parish  Church,  and  most  of  the 
town  of  Marshfield,  —  wide-spreading  marshes,  for 
ests  remote  and  near,  the  tranquil  river,  and  glisten 
ing  brooks.  On  a  pleasant  day  the  sands  of  Cape 
Cod  can  be  descried  from  it,  thirty  miles  directly  to 
the  east,  where  the  Pilgrims  first  moored  their  ship. 
The  spot  is  perfectly  retired  and  quiet,  nothing  be 
ing  usually  heard  but  the  solemn  dirge  of  the  ocean 
and  the  answering  sighs  of  the  winds.  It  is  the 
spot  of  all  others  for  his  resting  place. 


iANIELT          TER 


APPENDIX. 


THE  BURNHAM   STATUE   OF   WEBSTER. 

IT  is  not  inappropriate  to  the  purpose  of  this  volume 
to  describe  the  remarkable  and  munificent  testimonial 
offered  by  a  citizen  of  New  York  to  the  fame  of  Daniel 
Webster,  and  to  the  reverence  for  his  great  intellect 
and  the  affection  for  his  manly  virtues  which  have  kept 
his  memory  green.  It  was,  indeed,  the  particular  wish 
of  Mr.  Harvey  that  the  memorable  proceedings  and 
addresses  at  New  York,  on  the  25th  of  November,  1876, 
should  be  included  in  this  work.  He  was  present  on 
the  occasion,  and  he  repeatedly  expressed  the  hope  that 
this  crowning  ceremonial  in  honor  of  his  illustrious  friend 
might  have  a  place  in  his  volume  of  Reminiscences. 

Mr.  GORDON  WEBSTER  BURNHAM,  a  gentleman  of 
large  wealth  and  of  artistic  tastes,  having  an  exalted 
veneration  for  Mr.  Webster's  character,  tendered  to  the 
New  York  department  of  public  parks,  in  1874,  a  statue 
of  the  statesman,  to  be  erected  in  Central  Park.  The 
following  is  the  letter  in  which  this  offer  was  made  :  — 

HENRY    G.    STEBBINS,   Esq.,   President  of  the    Department   of 

Public  Parks. 

DEAR  SIR  :  In  accordance  with  the  suggestions  heretofore 
made  in  conversation  with  your  predecessor,  Mr.  Wales,  and 
yourself,  I  respectfully  offer  for  the  Central  Park  a  bronze 
Statue  of  Daniel  Webster,  of  colossal  size,  with  an  appro- 

29 


450  APPENDIX. 

priate  granite  pedestal,  the  whole  work  to  be  executed  by  the 
best  artist  in  a  manner  altogether  worthy  the  grandeur  of  the 
subject  and  the  conspicuous  position  it  is  designed  to  occupy 
at  the  lower  entrance  to  the  Mall. 

This  position,  proposed  by  Mr.  President  Wales,  and 
cordially  approved  by  3Tourself  and  other  gentlemen  of  no 
less  excellent  taste  and  judgment,  will  exactly  suit  my  pur 
pose  in  devoting  so  large  a  sum  of  money  as  will  be  required 
to  adorn  the  Park,  and  to  honor  the  memory  of  one  of 
America's  noblest  sons ;  whose  patriotic  eloquence,  devoted 
to  the  defence  of  her  institutions  during  his  life,  will  continue 
to  animate  and  inspire  to  the  latest  time  that  sentiment  of 
u  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  for  ever,  one  and  inseparable," 
which  has  saved  the  Nation,  and  will  continue  to  protect  it. 

I  trust  that  my  offer  to  place  this  statue  on  the  site  pro 
posed  will  meet  the  speedy  acceptance  of  your  Department, 
in  order  that  the  work  may  be  duly  completed  b}T  the  Fourth 
of  July,  1876, — the  Centennial  of  American  Independence. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  with  great  respect, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

GORDON  W.  BURNHAM. 
No.  128  FIFTH  AVE.,  NEW  YORK, 
July  25,  1874.       . 

Some  opposition  was  at  first  raised  to  this  project ; 
but  the  proposed  gift  was  so  munificent,  and  the  appro 
priateness  of  a  statue  of  America's  greatest  statesman 
in  America's  noblest  pleasure  ground  was  so  evident, 
that  opposition  was  soon  silenced,  and  Mr.  Burnharn's 
gift  was  accepted  by  the  City. 

The  unveiling  of  the  statue  took  place,  in  Central 
Park,  on  Saturday  the  25th  of  November,  1876,  —  a 
date  memorable  in  the  Revolutionary  annals  of  New 
York,  —  before  a  large  concourse  of  people.  The  fol 
lowing  description  of  this  stately  specimen  of  the  sculpt 
ural  art  is  taken  from  the  "  New  York  Times  "  of  the 
next  day :  — 


APPENDIX.  451 

k'  The  centre  of  attraction  was  the  statue  itself,  which  tow 
ered  above  the  throng  with  an  imposing  grace,  which  might 
aptly  be  compared  with  the  prominence  of  its  distinguished 
prototype  among  his  fellows.  It  is,  indeed,  a  noble  work  of 
art,  and  one  well  worthy  of  commemorating  the  fame  of  the 
great  champion  of  the  Constitution.  Upon  a  massive  granite 
pedestal,  ornamented  at  the  side  with  Corinthian  columns 
imbedded  in  stone,  rises  a  magnificent  bronze  effigy  of  Web 
ster,  of  heroic  size.  The  figure  is  attired  in  tlje  old-fashioned 
dress  coat  of  thirty  3^6 ars  ago,  with  the  right  arm  thrust  in 
the  folds,  and  the  left  hanging  naturally  at  the  side.  Behind 
the  figure  the  trunk  of  a  tree  is  represented,  partially  covered 
by  a  cloak.  The  expression  upon  the  countenance  is  one 
of  commanding  firmness,  slightly  tinged  with  sadness,  and 
beneath  all  an  intense  mental  power,  which,  together,  form 
a  happy  reflex  of  Webster's  prevailing  spirit.  Upon  the 
front  of  the  polished  granite  pedestal  is  the  inscription,  taken 
from  the  redoubtable  reply  to  Hayne  :  '  Liberty  and  Union, 
Now  and  Forever,  One  and  Inseparable  ; '  on  the  reverse  are 
the  words:  'Presented  by  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM,  July  IV., 
MDCCCLXXVI.'  The  statue  is  the  work  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Ball,  and  was  modelled  at  Florence  and  cast  in  Munich.  Its 
height  is  fourteen  feet,  and  its  weight  six  tons.  The  pedestal 
weighs  over  one  hundred  tons,  and  is  twenty  feet  in  height." 

The  ceremony  of  inauguration  took  place  at  two 
o'clock.  On  the  platform,  among  other  distinguished 
persons,  were  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM,  the  donor,  Mayor 
WICKHAM,  Hon.  WILLIAM  M.  EVARTS,  Hon.  ROBERT 
C.  WINTHROP,  Ex-Governor  E.  D.  MORGAN,  Gover 
nor  INGERSOLL,  of  Connecticut,  Lieutenant-Governor 
KNIGHT,  of  Massachusetts,  Hon.  PETER  HARVEY, 
District-Attorney  PHELPS,  and  WILLIAM  R.  MARTIN, 
President  of  the  Department  of  Parks.  The  assembly 
was  called  to  order  by  President  Martin,  who  spoke  as 
follows :  — 


452  APPENDIX. 

4 'To-day,  in  the  chief  city  of  his  country,  we  place  on  a 
pedestal  of  granite,  standing  on  the  basic  rock,  the  statue  of 
the  man  whose  learning  and  eloquence  did  so  much  to  estab 
lish  the  principles  of  the  Constitution  on  enduring  founda 
tions,  —  did  so  much  to  fix  in  every  heart  that  love  for  and 
faith  in  the  Union  which,  like  love  and  faith  always,  in  the 
crisis,  were  our  salvation. 

"  Surmounting  all  discord  of  interests  and  opinions,  through 
the  blood  of  the  Revolution,  a  century  ago,  our  fathers  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  Republic. 

"In  the  middle  of  the  century  these  foundations  were 
opened,  fundamental  principles  were  agitated  anew,  were 
resettled,  and  planted  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  In  our 
day,  they  have  survived  the  severest  tests  to  which  Liberty 
and  Union  could  have  been  subjected.  They  have  proved 
the  strongest  of  all  the  forces,  natural  and  moral,  by  which 
we  are  surrounded. 

"Through  this  course  of  our  history  there  was  room, 
there  was  need,  for  a  man  —  for  many  men,  but  for  one 
supremely  eminent  —  for  the  duty  of  standing  between  the 
past  and  the  future,  between  the  two  wars,  —  the  first  suc 
cessful  to  build  up,  the  second  failing  to  overthrow ;  need 
of  a  man  with  heart  large  enough  to  embrace  all,  mind  large 
enough  to  comprehend  all,  and,  upon  all  principles  and  all 
duties  of  our  pride  and  our  hopes,  to  build  the  temple  and 
within  it  the  altar  of  the  country,  before  which  all  hearts  are 
one  and  all  discordant  interests  disappear. 

"  It  is  the  noble  acts  of  such  a  man  that  we  to-day  com 
memorate." 

Mr.  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM  was  then  introduced, 
and  thus  addressed  the  Mayor  :  — 

"Mr.  MAYOR:  Having  always  been  a  great  admirer  of 
Mr.  Webster,  and  having  a  strong  desire  that  something 
should  be  done  to  perpetuate  his  memory,  I  have  caused  this 
statue  to  be  erected,  which  I  trust  may  be  as  enduring  as  his 


APPENDIX.  453 

fame,  and  the  granite  upon  which  it  stands.  I  now  have  the 
pleasure,  through  you,  of  presenting  this  statue  of  Daniel 
Webster,  with  its  pedestal,  to  the  city  of  New  York.  I  com 
mit  it  to  your  guardianship,  trusting  that  it  may  be  faithfully 
cared  for  and  protected  in  all  time  to  come." 

The  statue  was  then  unveiled  by  THOMAS  BROWNELL 
BTJRXHAM,  the  donor's  youngest  son,  amid  loud  cheers. 

Mayor  WICKHAM,  in  accepting  the  gift,  said  :  — 

"  MR.  BURNHAM  AND  GENTLEMEN  :  The  cit}T  of  New  York 
accepts  this  statue  with  many  acknowledgments  for  the  munifi 
cence  and  public  spirit  which  are  shown  now,  not  for  the  first 
time,  b}'  the  donor,  and  with  profound  regard  and  reverence  for 
the  remarkable  man  whose  features  and  figure  it  so  admirably 
reproduces.  The  time  is  well  chosen  for  reminding  the  peo 
ple  of  all  these  United  States,  as  this  image  does,  of  the 
greatness  of  the  intellect  and  resources  of  Daniel  Webster, 
and  of  the  glorious  use  to  which  he  put  them  in  the  public 
service.  In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  made  by  contending 
parties,  who  struggle  now  for  power  in  the  Republic,  this 
monument  to  the  most  illustrious  of  the  sons  of  New  Eng 
land  is  eloquent  of  the  moderation,  the  wisdom,  and  the 
abounding  patriotism  of  his  counsels,  which  helped  to  guide 
the  country  through  so  many  dangers  now  happily  passed. 
And,  in  the  new  perils  to  which  constitutional  government  is 
to-day  exposed,  to  turn  the  thoughts  of  men  again  to  the 
great  expounder  of  the  Constitution  himself,  as  these  im 
pressive  proceedings  will  turn  them,  cannot  but  be  productive 
of  good  influences.  The  city  will  guard  and  keep  this  noble 
gift  with  watchful  care,  that  generations  yet  to  come  may 
learn  the  lessons  taught  by  Webster." 

President  Martin  then  introduced  Hon.  WILLIAM  M. 
EVARTS,  who  delivered  the  following  Address  :  — 


454  APPENDIX. 

"MR.  MAYOR  AND  FELLOW-CITIZENS  :  I  congratulate  you, 
Mr.  Burnham,  upon  the  prosperous  execution  of  a  noble  pur 
pose.  You  did  me  the  honor,  in  meditating  this  grand  gift  to 
the  city  and  to  the  country,  to  ask  my  concurrence  in  this 
munificent  act.  I  know  that  it  proceeded,  in  your  intention, 
from  nothing  but  admiration  of  Mr.  Webster,  because  he  was 
a  great  servant  of  his  country,  and  from  your  patriotism,  that 
desired  to  perpetuate  his  influence  in  a  form  that  should  be  as 
enduring  and  as  eloquent  as  any  preservation  of  his  memory 
to  his  countrymen  could  possibly  be.  I  congratulate  you, 
Mr.  Mayor,  and  the  city  of  New  York,  for  the  grateful  and 
graceful  performance  of  a  duty  now  for  the  second  and  third 
time  of  receiving  noble  monuments  to  the  fame  of  great  citi 
zens  of  this  country,  and  the  acceptance  of  permanent  and 
impressive  decorations  of  our  public  places.  And  you,  fellow- 
citizens,  I  congratulate  upon  the  benignant  sky  and  the  genial 
air  that  in  these  last  days  of  November,  so  apt  to  be  the 
saddest  of  the  year,  have  for  this  occasion  given  us  the 
brightness  and  the  joy  of  opening  Spring.  I  congratulate 
you  more  deeply,  that  you  and  your  children,  from  generation 
to  generation,  are  here  to  renew  the  lessons  of  patriotism  and 
of  duty  which  Mr.  Webster  in  his  lifetime  taught  so  wisely  and 
so  well.  I  congratulate  you  upon  this  evidence  that  public 
spirit  does  not  fail  in  a  Republic.  It  has  been  the  reproach  of 
equal  society  that  it  bred  selfishness,  and  it  has  been  a  maxim 
that  munificence  belonged  to  kings  and  to  nobles,  and  that 
splendor  and  elegance  and  magnificence  flowed  downward, 
and  could  never  be  the  growth  of  an  equal  society ;  but  our 
history  has  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other  things,  falsified  these 
maxims  of  our  race.  Where  will  you  find  wider  and  better, 
more  numerous  or  more  noble,  instances  of  charity,  of  public 
spirit,  and  of  contributions  to  the  public  taste  and  public 
enjoyment,  than  this  Republic  of  ours  presents  everywhere? 
And  where  will  you  find  in  other  lands  instances  worth}'  to  be 
recorded  with  this  of  Mr.  Burnham,  where  a  single  citizen, 
doing  his  share  as  one  of  the  people,  for  the  good  of  the  nation, 
has  made  and  planned  as  great  and  noble  a  gift  ? 


APPENDIX.  455 

*'Mr.  Mayor,  on  this  occasion  we  find  no  need  of  dis 
tinct  eulogy.  Whoever  speaks  to  any  of  our  countrymen 
of  Mr.  Webster,  of  his  life,  of  his  public  sendees,  of  his 
genius,  and  of  his  fame,  can  tell  them  nothing  new,  nor 
can  he  hope  to  enlarge  or  deepen  their  admiring  homage 
which  attended  him  through  a  whole  generation  in  his  life 
time,  and  in  the  quarter  of  a  century  that  has  passed  since 
his  death  has  hallowed  his  memory.  Nor,  were  it  otherwise, 
would  any  thing  but  the  briefest  commemoration  and  the 
simplest  eulogy  befit  the  occasion.  This  noble  restoration  of 
his  imposing  presence,  and  the  solemn  echo  which  arises  in 
every  mind,  of  the  last  words  which  passed  his  lips,  i  I  still 
live  ! '  —  these  speak  to  us  to-day ;  and  all  other  oratory  is 
superfluous.  There  he  stands,  as  he  stood  for  a  whole  life 
time  of  assured  fame,  in  the  full  blaze  of  a  whole  people's 
attention,  crowned  by  his  Maker  with  glory  and  honor  —  as  he 
stood  in  the  courts,  in  the  Senate,  in  the  popular  assemblies, 
at  the  helm  of  State,  amid  the  crowds  that  followed  his  steps 
in  every  public  concourse.  And  yet  I  could  not  but  jield, 
Mr.  Burnham,  to  your  request  that  I  should  share  with  Mr. 
Webster's  friend,  and  our  friend,  Mr.  Winthrop,  in  bringing 
to  attention  some  of  the  principal  traits  of  Mr.  Webster's  char 
acter,  some  of  the  prominent  instances  of  his  great  public 
services. 

"  My  first  knowledge  of  Mr.  Webster,  in  the  way  of  per 
sonal  association  with  him,  occurred  just  as  I  was  leaving 
college,  and  he,  in  1837,  was  making  that  remarkable  prog 
ress  from  the  Capitol  at  Washington  to  his  home  in  the  East, 
on  which  his  steps  were  dela}~ed  in  every  city  by  the  instant 
demands  of  the  people  that  they  should  see  him  and  that 
he  should  speak  to  them.  I  had,  as  a  school-boy  in  Boston, 
been  familiar  with  his  person  as  that  of  the  principal  citizen 
of  that  place,  but  in  after  life  it  came  to  be  my  fortune  to  be 
associated  with  him  in  public  relations  only  during  the  last 
few  years  of  his  life.  I  can  bear  testimony  that,  without 
arrogance,  yet  full  of  dignity,  he  never  sought  to  enhance,  but 
always  to  lessen,  the  imposing  influence  which  his  mien  and 


456  APPENDIX. 

his  fame  impressed  on  every  one.  The  kindliness  of  his  man 
ner  and  his  affectionate  attention  to  every  claim  made  upon 
his  duty  or  his  favor,  none  who  knew  him  will  ever  forget ; 
and  if  my  voice  now  can  for  a  moment  recall  more  nearly 
than  the  general  recollection  of  his  countrymen  might  do, 
what  was  great  and  valuable  in  his  character  and  in  his  public 
service,  it  is  an  office  both  of  affection  and  duty  that  I  should 
so  do. 

"  No  one  brings  to  his  thoughts  the  life  of  Mr.  Webster 
without  instantly  dwelling  upon  the  three  principal  great 
departments  of  highest  influence  in  which  he  moved,  and 
where  he  showed  his  power,  and  shed  in  a  shower  of  benefi 
cence  upon  his  countrymen  and  their  institutions  the  great 
effulgence  of  his  intellect  and  the  warmth  of  his  patriotism. 
I  mean,  of  course,  as  a  lawyer,  as  a  statesman,  and  as  an 
orator.  No  doubt,  in  the  history  of  the  country,  names  can 
be  recalled  which,  considered  singly  and  simply  in  relation  to 
what  makes  up  the  character  and  authority  of  the  law}^er, 
may  compete  with  or  may  surpass  Mr.  Webster.  No  one 
can  divide  with  Chief  Justice  Marshall  the  immense  power  of 
judicial  penetration  which  he  maintained  through  a  life  length 
ened  beyond  eighty  years  ;  and  eminent  men  of  learning,  of 
weight,  of  authority  with  the  profession  and  with  the  public, 
may  be  named  that  at  least  occupy,  in  the  simple  character 
of  lawyers,  for  learning  and  judgment,  as  elevated  a  place  as 
Mr.  Webster.  But  I  am  quite  sure  that  there  is  not,  in  the 
general  judgment  of  the  profession,  nor  in  the  conforming  opin 
ion  of  his  countrymen,  any  lawyer  that,  in  the  magnitude  of 
his  causes,  in  the  greatness  of  their  public  character,  in  the 
immensity  of  their  influence  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  country, 
or  in  the  authority  which  his  manner  of  forensic  eloquence 
produced  in  courts  and  over  courts,  can  be  placed  in  the  same 
rank  with  Mr.  Webster.  As  a  statesman,  we  must  include 
in  our  mention  as  well  the  character  and  the  part  of  the  party 
leader,  as  that  of  the  guide  and  guardian  of  the  public  inter 
ests  in  the  more  elevated  plane  of  the  councils  of  the  countiy. 
And  in  this,  whatever  we  may  say  of  the  great  men  who,  at 


APPENDIX.  457 

the  birth  of  the  Nation  and  in  the  framing  of  the  Constitution, 
and  then,  with  lives  prolonged,  attending  the  first  steps  of 
the  progress  of  the  new-born  Nation,  established  their  own 
fame  and  contributed  to  the  greatness  and  the  safety  of  the 
country,  we  shall  find  no  man  in  our  generation  —  no  man 
coming  down  to  our  generation  from  that  preceding  one  — 
who  has  held  such  a  share  of  influence  in  the  popular 
assemblies,  in  the  counsels  of  the  party,  in  the  State  or 
in  the  Senate,  or  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  a  Minis 
ter  of  State,  who  can  at  all  contest  with  Mr.  Webster  the 
pre-eminent  position  of  the  statesman  of  the  whole  country, 
for  the  whole  country,  and  in  results  which  the  whole  country 
has  felt.  And  then,  when  we  come  to  oratory,  he  combined 
the  intellectual,  the  moral,  and  the  personal  traits  which  make 
up  that  power  in  the  Nation,  which  gave  to  one  Grecian  above 
all  others  of  his  countrymen  —  Pericles  —  the  title  of  Olym 
pian.  Who  so  much  in  our  time  and  in  our  Nation  has  com 
bined  all  those  traits  so  often  severed  as  Mr.  Webster? 
Whether  he  lifted  his  voice,  mirum  spargens  sonum,  in  the 
court,  or  in  the  Senate,  or  at  the  hustings,  or  in  the  oratory 
of  public  occasions,  and  to  select  audiences,  he  spoke  as  one 
having  authority  with  his  people  ;  and  that  authority  was 
alwaj's  recognized  and  always  obe}*ed. 

To  these  three  recognized  and  familiar  departments  of  his 
pre-eminence  we  must  add  a  fourth,  —  his  clear  title  in  the 
sphere  of  literature  to  be  held  as  one  of  the  greatest  authors 
and  writers  of  our  mother  tongue  that  America  has  produced. 
We  all  recognize  the  great  distinction  in  this  regard  of  Burke 
and  of  Macaula}'.  In  the  flow  of  their  eloquence  as  writers, 
and  in  the  splendors  of  their  diction,  Mr.  Webster  did  not 
approach  them,  nor  would  he  have  desired  to  imitate  them. 
But  I  propose  to  the  most  competent  critics  of  the  Nation, 
that  they  can  find  nowhere  six  octavo  volumes  of  printed 
literary  production  of  an  American,  that  contains  as  much 
noble  and  as  much  beautiful  imagery,  as  much  warmth  of 
rhetoric,  and  of  magnetic  impression  upon  the  reader,  as  are 
to  be  found  in  the  collected  writings  and  speeches  of  Daniel 
Webster. 


458  APPENDIX. 

"But,  fellow-citizens,  as  a  citizen  and  as  a  patriot,  Mr. 
Webster  was  greatest  in  the  opinion  of  his  countrymen  in  his 
life,  and  greatest  in  the  judgment  of  posterity  since  his 
death.  What  are  all  those  mere  gifts  of  intellect,  however 
vast ;  what  these  advantages  of  person,  of  education,  of 
position,  and  of  power  in  the  country,  if  their  possessor  fails 
or  falls  short  in  his  devotion  to  his  country,  and  in  his  ser 
vice  to  the  State  ?  And  he  that  will  look  through  the  preserved, 
recorded  evidence  of  Mr.  Webster's  life  will  see  at  once  that, 
from  his  youth  to  his  death,  he  was  as  full  of  public  spirit 
and  as  full  of  public  labors,  as  if  his  life  had  not  been  busy 
and  important  in  its  private,  professional,  and  personal  re 
lations.  He  served  the  State,  and  labored  for  and  loved  it 
from  boyhood  up.  He  withheld  no  service,  he  shrunk  from 
no  labor,  he  drew  no  nice  distinctions  as  to  opportunities  or 
occasions.  Whenever  a  word  was  to  be  spoken,  and  could  be 
usefully  spoken,  to  the  American  people,  in  the  lecture-room, 
on  the  anniversary  occasion,  in  the  public  assemblies,  in  the 
cities  and  in  the  country,  on  excursions  and  progresses  through 
large  stretches  of  our  territory,  North  and  South,  East  and 
West,  always  on  an  elevated  stage,  and  in  a  conspicuous 
cause,  he  gave  his  great  powers  to  this  service  of  the  people. 

"What  could  exceed  the  breadth  and  generosuy  of  his 
views,  the  comprehensiveness,  the  nationality,  of  his  rela 
tions  to  the  people !  Born  in  the  North-eastern  corner  of 
New  England,  the  North-eastern  corner  of  the  country, 
seated  for  the  practice  of  his  profession  and  for  his  domes 
tic  life  in  the  city  of  Boston,  on  the  very  outside  rim  of 
our  country's  territory,  —  I  defy  any  one  to  find,  from  the 
moment  he  left  his  provincial  college  at  Dartmouth,  to  the 
time  that  he  was  buried  on  the  shore  of  Marshfield,  a  time 
when  that  great  heart  did  not  beat,  and  that  great  intellect 
did  not  work  for  the  service  equally  of  all  the  American 
people,  North  and  South,  East  and  West.  We  do  not  find 
all  the  great  men  of  this  country  thus  large  and  liberal  in  the 
comprehension  of  their  public  spirit,  thus  constant  and  warm 
in  the  exercise  of  patriotic  feeling.  I  cannot  even  allude  to 


APPENDIX.  459 

the  immense  and  the  frequent  public  sen-ices  that  Mr.  Webster 
performed ;  but  I  have  this  to  say,  that  I  would  rather  that 
the  men  and  the  }Touth  of  this  countiy  should  read  the  perora 
tion  of  Mr.  Webster's  speech  in  reply  to  Hayne,  and  the  pero 
ration  of  his  speech  for  the  countiy  and  its  peace  on  the  7th 
of  March,  1850,  than  any  equal  passages  in  all  the  text-books 
and  all  the  oratory  of  our  politics  from  the  time  he  died  until 
now.  I  would  like  to  have  anybody  that  has  been  instructed  by 
the  last  twenty-five  years  see  if  he  could  portray  the  evils,  the 
weaknesses,  the  woes  of  nullification  under  the  Constitution, 
the  wretchedness  and  the  falsity  of  the  claims  and  schemes 
of  peaceful  secession,  better  than  Webster  could  do  and  did 
do  in  advance.  I  would  like  to  see  one  touch  of  art,  one 
word  of  eloquence,  one  proof  or  reason  that  can  be  added 
under  this  stern  teaching  of  a  quarter  of  a  centiuy,  that  is 
not  found  in  those  great  speeches  now.  His  countrymen 
questioned  him,  his  countrymen  maligned  him ;  but  it  was  his 
county  that  he  loved,  and  he  would  not  curse  it  for  anybody's 
cursing  him. 

"  On  Boston  Common,  in  July,  1852,  just  before  his  death, 
when  he  stood  in  the  face  of  Boston  people,  whom  he  had 
served  for  thirty  years,  he  used  these  words :  '  My  manner 
of  political  life  is  known  to  you  all.  I  leave  it  to  my  countiy, 
to  posterity,  and  to  the  world  to  see  whether  it  will  or  will 
not  stand  the  test  of  time  and  truth.'  Twent}'-five  years  of 
our  history  has  shed  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  past,  and  em 
blazoned  anew  the  records  of  Mr.  Webster's  public  life.  I 
shall  not  rehearse  them,  but  I  say  this  to  you,  and  I  challenge 
contradiction,  that  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  that  record 
is  true  to  the  great  principle  that  presided  over  the  birth  of  the 
Nation,  and  found  voice  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence  ; 
that  was  wrought  into  the  very  fabric  of  the  Constitution  ;  that 
earned  us,  with  unmutilated  territoiy,  and  undefiled  Constitu 
tion,  and  unbroken  authority  of  the  Government,  through  the 
sacrifices  and  the  terrors  and  the  woes  of  civil  war ;  that  will 
sustain  us  through  all  the  heats  and  agues  which  attend  the 
steps  of  the  Nation  to  perfect  health  and  strength.  The 


460  APPENDIX. 

great  principle  embossed  in  enduring  granite  on  this  pedestal, 
and  from  the  time  it  was  announced  from  those  eloquent  lips, 
is  firmly  fixed  in  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  this  people : 
4  Liberty  and  union,  now  and  for  ever,  one  and  inseparable.' 
The  great  names  of  our  Revolutionary  history,  —  the  signers 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the  framers  of  the  Con 
stitution,  the  wise  men  who,  surviving  from  that  generation, 
confirmed  the  progress  of  the  country  under  its  Constitution 
and  its  new  liberties,  —  no  American  will  allow  their  fame  to 
be  disparaged  or  divided  ;  and  of  the  men  that  followed  them 
up  to  your  time,  how  many  do  you  owe  great  obligations  to  ? 
How  much  to  Clay  and  Adams  ?  How  much  to  Jackson  and 
Wright?  How  much  to  Seward  and  Chase,  and  all  their  con 
temporaries  ?  But  if  I  were  to  name  two  men  whose  services 
were  incomparably  above  that  of  all  others  in  making  this 
new  experiment  of  free  government  and  of  paper  constitutions 
a  living  power  to  a  great  and  strenuous  nation  ;  two  that  could 
not  have  been  spared  though  all  others  remained,  —  I  should 
say  that  to  the  great  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  and  to  the  great 
forensic,  popular,  parliamentary  defender  and  expounder  of 
the  Constitution,  Daniel  Webster,  we  most  owe  what  we  now 
enjoj'.  Who  shall  deny  to  him  the  title,  '  of  our  constituted 
liberties  the  greatest  defender '  ? 

' '  And  now,  what  shall  we  say  of  this  great  man  in  the  per 
sonal  and  private  traits  of  his  character  ?  I  should  say  of 
Mr.  Webster  that,  if  there  were  one  single  trait  conspicuous 
in  him  and  pre-eminent  as  compared  with  others  who  have 
made  for  themselves  great  names  in  histor}^,  it  would  be  the 
abundant  charity  of  his  nature.  He  never  assumed  for  him 
self  in  private  intercourse,  or  in  public  speech,  any  superiority. 
He  never  tolerated  in  his  presence,  and  he  never  practised, 
either  evil  speech  or  evil  surmise.  His  frown  followed  even 
their  casual  introduction  about  the  table  and  in  public  dis 
cussions,  and  he  never  tolerated  &uy  confusion  between  intel 
lectual  dissection  of  an  argument  and  moral  inculpation  of  the 
reasoner.  I  do  not  know  that  one  should  question  ambition, 
for  it  is  the  pubh'c  passion  by  which  great  public  talents  are 


APPENDIX.  461 

made  useful  to  a  people.  But  I  will  say  of  Mr.  Webster,  that 
he  seemed  to  me  never  to  have  any  ambition  but  that  which 
is  an  inseparable  part  of  the  possession  of  great  powers  of 
public  usefulness,  but  that  which  is  sanctioned  by  the  injunc 
tion  that  great  talents  are  not  to  be  buried  in  the  earth,  and 
by  the  requirement  that  the  light  which  God  has  given  that  it 
should  shine  before  men  is  to  be  placed  on  a  candlestick. 

"And  now  within  the  narrower  circle,  not  ill-represented 
here  in  the  crowd  before  me,  and  on  this  stand,  of  those  who  en- 
jo}*ed  close  and  friendly  intercourse  with  Mr.  Webster ;  who 
knew,  better  than  the  world  knew,  the  greatness  of  his  powers 
and  the  nobleness  of  his  nature,  —  shall  we  be  guilty  of  any 
disrespect  to  the  living,  shall  it  not  be  pardoned  to  affection, 
if  we  say  that  the  associations  with  those  who  survive  seem  to 
us  but  little,  compared  with  the  memory  of  him  whose  friend 
ship  we  remember,  and  whose  fame  we  rehearse  ?  '  Eheu  ! 
quanto  minus  cum  reliquis  versari,  quam  tui  meminisse.' " 


The  Hon.  ROBERT  C.  WINTHROP,  of  Boston,  was 
then  introduced.  He  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"I  am  here,  Mr.  Maj'or,  fellow-coum^ymen  and  friends, 
with  no  purpose  of  trespassing  very  long  on  your  attention. 
I  was  doubtful  almost  to  the  last  moment  whether  I  should 
be  able  to  be  here  at  all  to-da}',  and  I  am  afraid  that  I  have 
neither  voice  nor  strength  for  many  words  in  the  open  air. 

"  But,  indeed,  the  Address  of  this  occasion  has  been  made. 
It  has  been  made  by  one  to  whom  it  was  most  appropriately 
assigned,  and  who  had  every  title  and  every  talent  for  mak 
ing  it.  It  was  peculiarly  fit  that  this  grand  gift  to  your 
magnificent  Park  should  be  acknowledged  and  welcomed  by 
a  citizen  of  New  York,  —  one  of  whom  you  are  all  justly 
proud,  an  eminent  advocate  and  jurist,  a  distinguished 
statesman  and  pubh'c  speaker,  with  the  laurels  of  the  Cen 
tennial  oration  at  Philadelphia  still  fresh  on  his  brow.  The 
utterances  of  this  hour  might  well  have  ended  with  him. 


462  APPENDIX. 

"  I  could  not,  however,  find  it  in  my  heart  to  refuse  alto 
gether  the  repeated  and  urgent  request  of  your  munificent 
fellow-citizen,  Mr.  Burnham,  that  I  would  be  here  on  the 
platform  with  Mr.  Evarts  and  himself,  to-day,  to  witness  the 
unveiling  of  this  noble  statue,  and  to  add  a  few  words  in  com 
memoration  of  him  whom  it  so  vividly  and  so  impressively 
portra}Ts. 

"  Mr.  Burnham  has  done  me  the  honor  to  call  me  to  his 
assistance  on  this  occasion,  as  one  who  had  enjoyed  some 
peculiar  opportunities  for  knowing  the  illustrious  statesman  to 
whose  memory  he  is  paying  these  large  and  sumptuous  hon 
ors.  And  it  is  true,  my  friends,  that  my  personal  associations 
with  Mr.  Webster  reach  back  to  a  distant  day.  I  recall  him 
as  a  familiar  visitor  in  the  homes  of  more  than  one  of  those 
with  whom  I  was  most  nearly  connected,  when  I  was  but  a 
schoolboy,  on  his  first  removal  to  Boston,  in  1817.  I  recall 
the  deep  impressions  produced  on  all  who  heard  him,  and 
communicated  to  all  who  did  not  hear  him,  by  his  great  efforts 
in  the  Constitutional  Convention  of  Massachusetts,  and,  soon 
afterward,  by  his  noble  discourse  at  Plymouth  Rock,  in  1820. 
I  was  myself  in  the  crowd  which  gazed  at  him,  and  listened  to 
him  with  admiration,  when  he  laid  the  corner-stone  of  the 
Monument  on  Bunker  Hill,  in  presence  of  Lafayette,  in  1824. 
I  was  myself  in  the  throng  which  hung  with  rapture  on  his 
lips  as  he  pronounced  that  splendid  eulogy  on  Adams  and 
Jefferson,  in  Faneuil  Hall,  in  1826.  Entering  his  office  as  a 
law  student  in  1828,  I  was  under  his  personal  tuition  during 
three  of  the  busiest  and  proudest  years  of  his  life.  From 
1840  to  1850,  I  was  associated  with  him  in  the  Congress  of 
the  United  States  ;  and  I  may  be  pardoned  for  not  forgetting 
that  it  was  then  my  privilege  and  my  pride  to  succeed  him 
in  the  Senate,  when  he  was  last  called  into  the  Cabinet,  as 
Secretary  of  State,  by  President  Fillmore. 

"  I  have  thus  no  excuse,  my  friends,  for  not  knowing  some 
thing,  for  not  knowing  much,  of  Daniel  Webster.  Of  those 
who  knew  him  longer  or  better  than  I  did,  few,  certainly, 
remain  among  the  living ;  and  I  could  hardly  have  recon- 


APPENDIX.  463 

ciled  it  with  what  is  due  to  his  memory,  or  with  what  is 
due  to  my  own  position,  if  I  had  refused,  —  I  will  not  say  to 
bear  testimony  to  his  wonderful  powers  and  his  great  public 
services,  for  all  such  testimony  would  be  as  superfluous  as  to 
bear  testimony  to  the  light  of  the  sun  in  the  skies  above 
us,  — but,  if  I  had  declined  to  give  expression  to  the  gratifi 
cation  and  delight  with  which  the  sons  of  New  England  and 
the  sons  of  Massachusetts,  and  of  Boston  especially,  and  I, 
as  one  of  them,  cannot  fail  to  regard  this  most  signal  com 
memoration  of  one,  whose  name  and  fame  were  so  long  and 
so  peculiarly  dear  to  them. 

' '  Neither  Mr.  Evarts  nor  I  have  come  here  to-day,  my 
friends,  to  hold  up  Mr.  Webster, — much  as  we  may  have 
admired  or  loved  him,  —  as  one  with  whom  we  have  always 
agreed,  as  one  whose  course  we  have  uniformly  approved,  or 
in  whose  career  we  have  seen  nothing  to  regret.  Our  testi 
mony  is  all  the  more  trustworthy  —  my  own  certainly  is  — 
that  we  have  sometimes  differed  from  him.  But  we  are  here 
to  recognize  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  men  our  country  has 
ever  produced ;  as  one  of  the  grandest  figures  in  our  whole 
national  history ;  as  one  who,  for  intellectual  power,  had  no 
superior,  and  hardly  an  equal,  in  our  own  land  or  in  any  other 
land,  during  his  day  and  generation ;  as  one  whose  written 
and  spoken  words,  so  fitly  embalmed  "  for  a  life  be}T>nd  life  " 
in  the  six  noble  volumes  edited  by  Edward  Everett,  are 
among  the  choicest  treasures  of  our  language  and  literature  ; 
and,  still  more  and  above  all,  as  one  who  rendered  inestimable 
sendees  to  his  country,  —  at  one  period,  vindicating  its 
rights  and  preserving  its  peace  with  foreign  nations  by  the 
most  skilful  and  masterl}'  diplomacy ;  at  another  period, 
rescuing  its  Constitution  from  overthrow,  and  repelling 
triumphantly  the  assaults  of  nullification  and  disunion,  by 
overpowering  argument  and  matchless  eloquence. 

' '  Mr.  Webster  made  many  marvellous  manifestations  of 
himself  in  his  busy  life  of  three-score  years  and  ten.  Con 
vincing  arguments  in  the  courts  of  law,  brilliant  appeals 
to  popular  assemblies,  triumphant  speeches  in  the  Halls  of 


464  APPENDIX. 

Legislation,  magnificent  orations  and  discourses  of  commem 
oration  or  ceremony,  —  are  thickly  scattered  along  his  whole 
career.  I  rejoice  to  remember  how  many  of  them  I  have 
heard  from  his  own  lips,  and  how  much  inspiration  and 
instruction  I  have  derived  from  them.  To  have  seen  and 
heard  him  on  one  of  his  field  days,  was  a  privilege  which  no 
one  will  undervalue  who  ever  enjoyed  it.  There  was  a  power, 
a  breadth,  a  beauty,  a  perfection,  in  some  of  his  efforts,  when 
he  was  at  his  best,  which  distanced  all  approach  and  rendered 
rivalry  ridiculous. 

"  And  if  the  style  and  tone  and  temper  of  our  political  dis 
cussions  are  to  be  once  more  elevated,  refined,  and  purified, 
—  and  we  all  know  how  much  room  there  is  for  elevation 
and  refinement,  —  we  must  go  back  for  our  examples  and 
models,  at  least  as  far  as  the  days  of  that  great  Senato 
rial  Triumvirate, — Clay,  Calhoun,  and  Webster.  There 
were  giants  in  those  days ;  but  none  of  them  forgot  that, 
though  '  it  is  excellent  to  have  a  giant's  strength,  it  is  tyran 
nous  to  use  it  like  a  giant.' 

' '  Among  those  who  have  been  celebrated  as  orators  or  pub 
lic  speakers,  in  our  own  days  or  in  other  days,  there  have  been 
many  diversities  of  gifts,  and  many  diversities  of  operations. 
There  have  been  those  who  were  listened  to  wholly  for  their 
intellectual  qualities,  for  the  wit  or  the  wisdom,  the  learning  or 
the  philosophy,  which  characterized  their  efforts.  There  have 
been  those  whose  main  attraction  was  a  curious  felicity  and 
facility  of  illustration  and  description,  adorned  by  the  richest 
gems  which  could  be  gathered  by  historical  research  or  clas 
sical  study.  There  have  been  those  to  whom  the  charms  of 
manner  and  the  graces  of  elocution  and  the  melody  of 
voice  were  the  all-sufficient  recommendations  to  attention 
and  applause.  And  there  have  been  those  who  owed  their 
success  more  to  opportunity  and  occasion,  to  some  stirring 
theme  or  some  exciting  emergency,  than  to  any  peculiar 
attributes  of  their  own.  But  Webster  combined  every  thing. 
No  thoughts  more  profound  and  weighty.  No  style  more 
terse  and  telling.  No  illustrations  more  vivid  and  clear-cut. 


APPENDIX.  465 

No  occasions  more  august  and  momentous.  No  voice  more 
deep  and  thrilling.  No  manner  more  impressive  and  admir 
able.  No  presence  so  grand  and  majestic,  as  his. 

"  That  great  brain  of  his,  as  I  have  seen  it  working,  whether 
in  public  debate  or  in  private  converse,  seemed  to  me  often 
like  some  mighty  machine,  —  always  ready  for  action,  and 
almost  always  in  action,  evolving  much  material  from  its  own 
resources  and  researches,  and  eagerly  appropriating  and  as 
similating  whatever  was  brought  within  its  reach,  producing 
and  reproducing  the  richest  fabrics  with  the  ease  and  certainty, 
the  precision  and  the  condensing  energy,  of  a  perfect  Corliss 
engine,  —  such  an  one  as  many  of  us  have  just  seen  presiding 
so  magically  and  so  majestically  over  the  Exposition  at 
Philadelphia. 

' '  And  he  put  his  own  crown-stamp  on  almost  every  thing 
he  uttered.  There  was  no  mistaking  one  of  Webster's  great 
efforts.  There  is  no  mistaking  them  now.  They  will  be  dis 
tinguished,  in  all  time  to  come,  like  pieces  of  old  gold  or 
silver  plate,  by  an  unmistakable  mint-mark.  He  knew,  like 
the  casters  or  forgers  of  yonder  Statue,  not  only  how  to  pour 
forth  burning  words  and  blazing  thoughts,  but  so  to  blend  and 
fuse  and  weld  together  his  facts  and  figures,  his  illustrations 
and  arguments,  his  metaphors  and  subject-matter,  as  to  bring 
them  all  out  at  last  into  one  massive  and  enduring  image  of 
his  own  great  mind  ! 

"  He  was  by  no  means  wanting  in  labor  and  study ;  and  he 
often  anticipated  the  earliest  dawn  in  his  preparations  for  an 
immediate  effort.  I  remember  how  humorously  he  told  me 
once,  that  the  cocks  in  his  own  yard  often  mistook  his  morn 
ing  candle  for  the  break  of  day,  and  began  to  crow  lustily  as 
he  entered  his  office,  though  it  were  two  hours  before  sunrise. 
Yet  he  frequently  did  wonderful  things  off-hand;  and  one 
might  often  say  of  him,  in  the  words  of  an  old  poet,  — 

" '  His  noble  negligences  teach 
What  others'  toils  despair  to  reach/ 

"  Not  in  our  own  land,  only,  Mr.  Mayor  and  fellow-country- 

30 


466  APPENDIX. 

men,  were  the  pre-eminent  powers  of  Mr.  Webster  recognized 
and  appreciated.  Brougham,  and  Lyndhurst,  and  the  late 
Lord  Derby,  as  I  had  abundant  opportunity  of  knowing,  were 
no  underraters  of  his  intellectual  grasp  and  grandeur.  I  re 
member  well,  too,  the  casual  testimon}^  of  a  venerable  prelate 
of  the  English  Church, — the  late  Dr.  Harcourt,  then  Arch 
bishop  of  York,  —  who  said  to  me  thirty  years  ago  in  London  : 
'  I  met  your  wonderful  friend,  Mr.  Webster,  for  only  five 
minutes  ;  but  in  those  five  minutes  I  learned  more  of  Ameri 
can  institutions,  and  of  the  peculiar  working  of  the  American 
Constitution,  than  in  all  that  I  had  ever  heard  or  read  from 
any  or  all  other  sources.' 

"Of  his  Discourse  on  the  Second  Centennial  Anniversary  of 
the  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  on  Plymouth  Bock,  John  Adams 
wrote,  in  acknowledging  a  cop}'  of  it :  '  Mr.  Burke  is  no 
longer  entitled  to  the  praise  of  being  the  most  consummate 
orator  of  modern  times.'  And,  certainty,  from  the  date  of 
that  Discourse,  he  stood  second,  as  an  Orator,  to  no  one  who 
spoke  the  English  language.  But  it  is  peculiarly  and  pre 
eminently  as  the  Expounder  and  Defender  of  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States,  in  January,  1830,  that  he  will  be  re 
membered  and  honored  as  long  as  that  Constitution  shall 
hold  a  place  in  the  American  heart,  or  a  place  on  the  pages 
of  the  world's  history. 

"  Mr.  Webster  once  said,  —  and  perhaps  more  than  once,  — 
that  there  was  not  an  article,  a  section,  a  clause,  a  phrase,  a 
word,  a  syllable,  or  even  a  comma,  of  that  Constitution, 
which  he  had  not  studied  and  pondered  in  every  relation  and 
in  every  construction  of  which  it  was  susceptible. 

"  Born  at  the  commencement  of  the  }'ear  1782,  at  the  very 
moment  when  the  necessit}T  of  such  an  Instrument  for  pre 
serving  our  Union,  and  making  us  a  Nation,  was  first  begin 
ning  to  be  comprehended  and  felt  by  the  patriots  who  had 
achieved  our  Independence, —  just  as  they  had  fully  discov 
ered  the  utter  insufficiency  of  the  old  Confederation,  and  how 
mere  a  rope  of  sand  it  was  ;  born  in  that  very  year  in  which 
the  Legislature  of  your  own  State  of  New  York,  under  the 


APPENDIX.  467 

lead  of  your  gallant  Philip  Schuyler,  at  the  prompting  of 
your  grand  Alexander  Hamilton,  was  adopting  the  very  first 
resolutions  passed  by  any  State  in  favor  of  such  an  Instru 
ment,  —  it  might  almost  be  said  that  the  natal  air  of  the 
Constitution  was  his  own  natal  air.  He  drank  in  its  spirit 
with  his  earliest  breath,  and  seemed  born  to  comprehend, 
expound,  and  defend  it.  No  Roman  schoolboy  ever  com 
mitted  to  memory  the  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  more  dili 
gently  and  thoroughly  than  did  he  the  Constitution  of  his 
country.  He  had  it  by  heart  in  more  senses  of  the  words 
than  one,  and  every  part  and  particle  of  it  seemed  only  less 
precious  and  sacred  to  him  than  his  Bible. 

' '  John  Adams  himself  was  not  more  truly  the  Colossus  of 
Independence  in  the  Continental  Congress  of  1776,  than 
Daniel  Webster  was  the  Colossus  of  the  Constitution  and  the 
Union  in  the  Federal  Congress  of  1830. 

"For  other  speeches,  of  other  men,  it  might  perhaps  be 
claimed,  that  they  have  had  the  power  to  inflame  and  pre 
cipitate  war,  —  foreign  war  or  civil  war.  Of  Webster's  great 
speech,  as  a  Senator  of  Massachusetts,  in  1830  —  and  of  that 
alone,  I  think  —  it  can  be  said,  that  it  averted  and  postponed 
Civil  War  for  a  whole  generation.  Yes,  it  repressed  the 
irrepressible  conflict  itself  for  thirty  years  !  And  when  that 
dire  calamity  came  upon  us  at  last,  though  the  voice  of  the 
master  had  so  long  been  hushed,  that  speech  still  supplied 
the  most  convincing  arguments  and  the  most  inspiring  incite 
ments  for  a  resolute  defence  of  the  Union.  It  is  not  yet 
exhausted.  There  is  argument  and  inspiration  enough  in  it 
still,  if  only  they  be  heeded,  to  carry  us  along,  as  a  United 
People,  at  least  for  another  Centmy.  In  that  Speech  '  he 
still  lives  ; '  and  lives  for  the  Constitution  and  the  Union  of 
his  Country. 

4 'Why,  my  friends,  not  even  the  D}Tnamite  and  Rend-rock 
and  Vulcan  powo^r  of  your  scientific  and  gallant  Newton 
were  more  effective  in  blasting  and  shattering  your  Hell-Gate 
reef,  and  opening  the  way  for  the  safe  navigation  of  yonder 
Bay,  than  that  speech  of  Webster  was  in  exploding  the  doc- 


468  APPENDIX. 

trines  of  nullification,  and  clearing  the  channel  for  our  Ship 
of  State  to  sail  on  safety,  prosperously,  triumphantly,  whether 
in  sunshine  or  in  storm  ! 

"Bej'ond  all  comparison,  it  was  the  Speech  of  our  Consti 
tutional  Age.  c  Nil  simile  aut  secundum.'  It  was  James 
Madison,  of  Virginia,  himself,  who  said  of  it  in  a  letter  at 
the  time :  '  It  crushes  nullification,  and  must  hasten  an 
abandonment  of  secession.'  Whatever  remained  to  be  done, 
in  the  progress  of  events,  for  the  repression  of  menacing 
designs  or  of  overt  acts,  was  grandly  done  by  the  resolute 
patriotism  and  iron  will  of  President  Jackson,  whose  procla 
mation  and  policy,  to  that  end,  Mr.  Webster  sustained  with 
all  his  might.  The}7  were  the  legitimate  conclusions  of  his 
own  great  Argument. 

' '  Of  other  and  later  efforts  of  Mr.  Webster  I  have  neither 
time  nor  inclination  to  speak.  There  are  too  many  coals  still 
burning  beneath  the  smouldering  embers  of  some  of  his  more 
recent  controversies,  for  any  one  to  rake  them  rashly  open  on 
such  an  occasion  as  this.  I  was  by  no  means  in  full  accord 
with  his  memorable  7th  of  March  speech,  and  my  views  of  it 
to-da}T  are  precisely  what  he  knew  they  were  in  1850.  But 
no  differences  of  opinion  on  that  day,  or  on  any  other  day,  ever 
impaired  my  admiration  of  his  powers,  my  confidence  in  his 
patriotism,  my  earnest  wishes  for  his  promotion,  nor  the  full 
assurance  which  I  felt  that  he  would  administer  the  Govern 
ment  with  perfect  integrity,  as  well  as  with  consummate 
ability.  What  a  President  he  would  have  made  for  a  Cen 
tennial  Year !  What  a  tower  of  strength  he  would  have  been, 
to  our  Constitution  and  our  Countr}7,  in  all  the  perplexities 
and  perils  through  which  we  have  recently  passed,  and  are 
still  passing !  '  Oh  !  for  an  hour  of  Dundee  ! ' 

"No  one  will  pretend  that  he  was  free  from  all  infirmi 
ties  of  character  and  conduct,  though  they  have  often  been 
grossly  exaggerated.  Great  temptations  proverbially  beset 
the  pathway  of  great  powers ;  and  one  who  can  overcome 
almost  every  thing  else  may  sometimes  fail  of  conquering 
himself.  He  never  assumed  to  be  faultless ;  and  he  would 


APPENDIX.  469 

have  indignantly  rebuked  any  one  who  assumed  it  for  him. 
We  all  know  that,  while  he  could  master  the  great  ques 
tions  of  National  Finance,  and  was  never  weary  in  main 
taining  the  importance  of  upholding  the  National  Credit,  he 
never  cared  quite  enough  about  his  own  finances,  or  took 
particular  pains  to  preserve  his  own  personal  credit.  We  all 
know -that  he  was  sometimes  impatient  of  differences,  and 
sometimes  arrogant  and  overbearing  toward  opponents.  His 
own  consciousness  of  surpassing  powers,  and  the  flatteries 
—  I  had  almost  said,  the  idolatries  —  of  innumerable  friends, 
would  account  for  much  more  of  all  this  than  he  ever  dis 
played.  I  have  known  him  in  all  his  moods.  I  have  expe 
rienced  the  pain  of  his  frown,  as  well  as  the  charms  of  his 
favor.  And  I  will  acknowledge  that  I  had  rather  confront 
him  as  he  is  here,  to-day,  in  bronze,  than  encounter  his  oppo 
sition  in  the  flesh.  His  antagonism  was  tremendous. 
*  Safest  he  who  stood  aloof.'  But  his  better  nature  always 
asserted  itself  in  the  end.  No  man  or  woman  or  child  could 
be  more  tender  and  affectionate. 

"And  there  is  one  element  of  his  character  which  must 
never  be  forgotten.  I  mean  his  deep  religious  faith  and  trust. 
I  recall  the  delight  with  which  he  often  conversed  on  the 
Bible.  I  recall  the  delight  with  which  he  dwelt  on  that 
exquisite  prayer  of  one  of  the  old  Prophets,  repeating  it  fer- 
ventty  as  a  model  of  eloquence  and  of  devotion :  '  Although 
the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the 
vines  ;  the  labor  of  the  oh' ve  shall  fail,  and  the  field  shall  }ield 
no  meat ;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there 
shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  :  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I 
will  jo}T  in  the  God  of  my  salvation.'  I  recall  his  impressive 
and  powerful  plea  for  the  Religious  Instruction  of  the  Young, 
in  the  memorable  case  of  Girard  College.  I  have  been  with 
him  on  the  most  solemn  occasions,  in  Boston  and  at  Wash 
ington,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  exciting  and  painful  contro 
versies,  kneeling  by  his  side  at  the  table  of  our  common 
Master,  and  witnessing  the  humility  and  reverence  of  his 
worship.  And  who  has  forgotten  those  last  words  which  he 


470  APPENDIX. 

ordered  to  be  inscribed,    and  which   are   inscribed,  on  his 
tombstone  at  Marshfield :  — 

"'Lord,  I  believe;  help  Thou  mine  unbelief.'  Philosophical  Argu 
ment,  especially  that  drawn  from  the  vastness  of  the  universe,  in  com 
parison  with  the  apparent  insignificance  of  this  globe,  has  sometimes 
shaken  my  reason  for  the  faith  which  is  in  me ;  but  my  heart  has  alwa373 
assured  and  re-assured  me  that  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  a 
Divine  Reality.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  cannot  be  a  merely  human 
production.  This  belief  enters  into  the  very  depth  of  my  conscience. 
The  whole  history  of  man  proves  it. — DANIEL  WEBSTER. 


, . 


I  cannot  help  wishing  that  this  declaration,  in  all  its 
original  fulness,  were  engraved  on  one  of  the  sides  of  yonder 
monumental  base,  in  letters  which  all  the  world  might  read. 
Amid  all  the  perplexities  which  modern  Science,  intentionally 
or  unintentionally,  is  multiplying  and  magnifying  around  us, 
what  consolation  and  strength  must  ever  be  found  in  such  an 
expression  of  faith  from  that  surpassing  intellect ! 

"I  congratulate  you,  my  friends,  that  your  Park  is  to  be 
permanently  adorned  with  this  grand  figure,  and  that  the 
inscription  on  its  massive  pedestal  is  to  associate  it  for  ever 
with  the  great  principle  of  '  Union  and  Liberty,  one  and 
inseparable.'  Nor  can  I  conclude  without  saying,  that,  from 
all  I  have  ever  known  of  Mr.  Webster's  feelings,  nothing 
could  have  gratified  him  so  much  as  that,  in  this  Centennial 
Year,  on  this  memorable  Anniversary,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century  after  he  had  gone  to  his  rest,  —  when  all  the  partiali 
ties  and  prejudices,  all  the  love  and  the  hate,  which  wait  upon 
the  career  of  living  public  men,  should  have  grown  cold  or 
passed,  away,  —  a  Statue  of  himself  should  be  set  up  here, 
within  the  limits  of  your  magnificent  City,  and  amid  these 
superb  surroundings.  Quite  apart  from  those  personal  and 
domestic  ties  which  rendered  New  York  so  dear  to  him,  —  of 
which  we  have  a  touching  reminder  in  the  presence  of  the 
venerable  lady  wrho  was  so  long  the  sharer  of  his  name  and 
the  ornament  of  his  home,  —  quite  apart  from  all  such  con 
siderations,  he  would  have  appreciated  such  a  tribute  as  this, 
I  think,  above  all  other  posthumous  honors. 


APPENDIX.  471 

•<  There  was  something  congenial  to  him  in  the  grandeur 
of  this  great  Commercial  Metropolis.  He  loved,  indeed,  the 
hills  and  plains  of  New  Hampshire,  among  which  he  was 
born.  He  delighted  in  Marshfield  and  the  shores  of  Plymouth, 
where  he  was  buried.  He  was  warmly  attached  to  Boston 
and  the  people  of  Massachusetts,  among  whom  he  had  lived 
so  long,  and  from  whom  he  had  so  often  received  his  com 
missions  as  their  Representative  and  their  Senator  in  Con 
gress.  But  in  your  noble  City,  as  he  said,  he  recognized 
4  the  commercial  capital,  not  only  of  the  United  States,  but  of 
the  whole  continent  from  the  pole  to  the  South  Sea.'  '  The 
growth  of  this  City,'  said  he,  i  and  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  are  coevals  and  contemporaries/  '  New  York 
herself,'  he  exclaimed,  '  is  the  noblest  eulogy  on  the  Union 
of  the  States.'  He  delighted  to  remember  that  here  Wash 
ington  was  first  inaugurated  as  President,  and  that  here  had 
been  the  abode  of  Hamilton  and  John  Jay  and  Rufus  King. 
And  it  was  at  a  banquet  given  to  him  at  your  own  Niblo's 
Garden  in  1837,  and  under  the  inspiration  of  these  associa 
tions,  that  he  summed  up  the  whole  lesson  of  the  past  and 
the  whole  duty  of  the  future,  and  condensed  them  into  a 
sentiment  which  has  ever  since  entered  into  the  circulating 
medium  of  true  patriotism,  like  an  ingot  of  gold  with  the 
impress  of  the  eagle :  '  One  Country,  One  Constitution,  One 
Destiny.' 

"  Let  that  motto,  still  and  ever,  be  the  watchword  of  the 
hour,  and  whatever  momentary  perplexities  or  perils  may 
environ  us,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  no  permanent  harm  can 
happen  to  our  Republic  ! 

*'  In  behalf  of  my  fellow-citizens  of  New  England,  I  thank 
Mr.  Burnham  for  this  great  gift  to  your  Central  Park ;  and 
I  congratulate  him  on  having  associated  his  name  with  so 
splendid  a  tribute  to  so  illustrious  a  man.  A  New  Englander 
himself,  he  long  ago  decorated  one  of  the  chief  cities  of  his 
native  State  with  a  noble  Statue  of  a  venerated  father  of  the 
Church  to  which  he  belongs.  He  has  now  adorned  the  City 


472  APPENDIX. 

of  his  residence  with  this  grand  figure  of  a  pre-eminent 
American  Statesman.  He  has  thus  doubly  secured  for  him 
self  the  grateful  remembrance  of  all  by  whom  Religion  and 
Patriotism,  Churchmanship  and  Statesmanship,  shall  be  held 
worthy  of  commemoration  and  honor,  in  all  time  to  come." 


On  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Winthrop's  address,  a  fine 
band  of  music,  which  had  played  before  the  ceremo 
nies  and  between  the  addresses,  struck  at  once  into 
our  National  Airs,  while  the  cheers  of  the  assembled 
multitude  for  the  orators  of  the  occasion  ;  for  the  statue 
and  its  accomplished  artist,  Thomas  Ball ;  and,  above 
all,  for  its  munificent  donor,  Gordon  Webster  Burnham, 
—  gave  the  appropriate  close  to  the  proceedings. 

In  the  evening,  Mr.  Burnham  gave  a  brilliant  recep 
tion  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  at  bis  house,  128  Fifth 
Avenue.  Nearly  a  thousand  invited  guests  were  pres 
ent,  among  the  most  note-worthy  being  Governor  Tilden, 
ex-Governors  Dix,  Morgan,  and  Hoffman,  Mayor  Wick- 
ham,  Mayor-elect  Ely,  William  M.  Evarts,  Robert  C. 
Winthrop,  Parke  Godwin,  Peter  Cooper,  August  Bel- 
mont,  Manton  Marble,  Fitz-John  Porter,  S.  S.  Cox, 
Rev.  William  Adams,  D.  D.,  Rev.  Dr.  Morgan,  Peter 
Harvey  and  several  other  members  of  the  "  Marsh- 
field  Club  "  of  Boston,  and  many  other  political,  cleri 
cal,  literary,  artistic,  and  business  celebrities  of  the 
metropolis. 

On  November  27,  1876,  the  New  York  Board  of 
Aldermen -unanimously  adopted  the  following  preamble 
and  resolutions :  — 

"Whereas,  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM,  Esq.,  having  placed  in 
the  Central  Park,  at  his  own  expense,  the  colossal  statue  in 


APPENDIX.  473 

bronze  of  DANIEL  WEBSTER,  with  the  granite  pedestal  on 
which  it  stands,  did,  on  the  25th  day  of  November,  instant, 
present  the  same  to  the  City  ;  now,  therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Mayor,  Aldermen,  and  Commonalty 
of  the  City  of  New  York,  appreciating  the  illustrious  charac 
ter  and  services  of  the  statesman  to  whom  this  monument  is 
raised,  and  rejoicing  in  the  possession  of  a  work  of  art 
which  is  so  notable  itself,  and  which  so  eloquently  incites  to 
patriotism  and  to  devotion  to  the  Constitution,  do  now,  in 
grateful  recognition  of  this  renewed  expression  of  the  munifi 
cence  and  public  spirit  of  an  honored  fellow-citizen,  present 
their  thanks  to  GORDON  W.  BURNHAM  for  his  memorable  gift. 

'''•Resolved,  That  the  Mayor  be,  and  hereby  is,  requested 
to  forward  to  Mr.  Burnham  an  engrossed  copy  of  the  fore 
going  preamble  and  resolution,  duly  attested." 


INDEX. 


ABERDEEN,  the  Earl  of,  168. 
ADAMS,  John,   dines  with  Webster, 

209 ;  anecdote  of,  210. 
ADAMS,  John  Quincy,  16T. 
ADAMS,  Samuel,  381,  382. 
ADAMS,  William,  406. 
APPLETON,  Julia  Webster,  329. 
APPL.ETOX,   William,   nominated  for 

Congress,  193. 
ASHBURTON,  Lord,  discusses  right  of 

search  with  Webster,  167. 
ASHBURTON  Treaty,   negotiation  of, 

163. 


B. 

BALTIMORE,  Whig  Convention  at,  194. 

BANCROFT,  George,  164. 

BARCA,  Don  Calderon  de  la,  180. 

BEAX,  William,  freedom  purchased, 
313-315. 

BENTON,  Thomas  H.,  relations  with 
Webster,  222 ;  anecdote,  223 ;  recon 
ciled  with  John  Wilson,  227;  rela 
tions  with  Calhoun,  231;  at  Cal- 
houn's  funeral,  232 ;  character  of, 
232. 

BLAKE,  George,  anecdotes  of,  123- 
138,  264. 

BRAMBLE,  Matthew,  case  of,  67-73. 

BROUGHAM,  Lord,  258,  259. 


BURNHAM,  Gordon  W.,  presents  statue 
of  Webster  to  New  York  (Appen 
dix),  449. 

BURR,  Aaron,  75. 


c. 

CALHOUN,  John  C.,  quarrel  with  Jack 
son,  159;  relations  with  Webster, 
218 ;  last  appearance  in  the  Senate, 
220-222;  funeral,  231. 

CALIFORNIA,  Webster's  prophecy 
about,  203. 

CASS,  Lewis,  protest  against  Ashbur- 
ton  Treaty,  163;  arrival  in  Boston, 
164;  controversy  with  Webster,  165; 
at  the  French  court,  256. 

CHOATE,  Rufus,  64;  counsel  in  San- 
born  case,  87;  opinion  of  Webster 
as  an  advocate,  145;  on  refusal  of 
Faneuil  Hall,  183,  185,  189;  visits 
Webster  at  Washington,  195;  ac 
tion  in  campaign  of  1852, 197 ;  Web 
ster's  regard  for,  234;  estimate  of 
Webster's  ability,  235;  anecdote, 
358. 

CLAY,  Henry,  nomination  for  Presi 
dent,  198 ;  contrasted  with  Webster, 
214;  Webster's  advocacy  of,  215; 
hostility  to  Webster's  nomination, 
216;  Webster's  estimate  of,  217. 

COLBY,  John,  visit  of  Webster  to,  412. 


476 


INDEX. 


CROWNINSHIELD,  Mr.,  159. 
CURTIS,  Benjamin  R.,  Webster's  opin 
ion  of,  118. 

D. 

DARTMOUTH  College  case,  anecdote 

relating  to,  111 ;  papers  relating  to, 

114. 

DAVIS,  Isaac  P.,  264. 
DEXTER,  Samuel,  "Webster's  opinion 

of,  81,  82;  in  the  Supreme  Court, 

208. 
DICKINSON,    Daniel    S.,  letter    from 

Webster  to,  240. 
DUVAL,  Gabriel,  209. 


E. 

ELIOT,  Samuel  A.,  Webster's  friend 
ship  for,  242. 

ELMS  Farm,  Franklin,  294. 

EVANS,  George,  237-240. 

EVARTS,  William  M.,  address  (Ap 
pendix),  453. 

EVERETT,  Edward,  anecdote  by,  relat 
ing  to  Webster's  reply  to  Hayne, 
149 ;  opinion  of  Webster  as  an  ora 
tor,  157;  at  the  British  court,  168. 


F. 

FANEUIL  Hall  refused  to   Webster's 

friends,  182. 

FEARING,  Albert,  170,  173. 
FILLMORE,  Millard,  Webster's  opinion 

of,  199;  Clay's  opinion  of,  216. 
FOOTE,  Henry  S.,  364. 
FRANKLIN,  Elms  Farm  at,  294. 


G. 

GILMER,  Thomas  A.,  death  of,  223. 
GOODYEAR  rubber  case,  102-104. 


GORE,  Christopher,  visited  by  Web 
ster,  32;  receives  Webster  as  student, 
34;  advises  Webster  to  refuse  clerk 
ship,  37 ;  in  Congress,  176. 

H. 

HARPER,  Robert  G.,  208. 

HARRISON, William  H..  appoints  Web 
ster  Secretary  of  State,  160;  anec 
dote  about  inaugural  message  of, 
161 ;  Webster's  opinion  of,  198. 

HAYNE,  Robert  Y.,  Webster's  reply 
to,  149 ;  anecdotes  of  Webster  and, 
152,  153. 

HILL,  Isaac,  244. 

HOAR,  Samuel,  counsel  in  the  Sanborn 
case,  87. 


J. 


JACKSON,  Andrew,  difficulties  of  ad 
ministration  of,  159. 

JEFFERSON,  Thomas,  Webster's  visit 
to,  211;  Webster's  opinion  of,  212. 

JOHNSON,  William,  209. 


K. 

KELP,  use  of  as  manure,  273 ;  anecdote, 

274. 

KENNISON  case,  97-101. 
KETCHUM,  Hiram,  240. 
KING,  Rufus,  176. 
KOSSUTH,  Louis,  261. 


LAWRENCE,  Abbott,  speech  in  favor 

of  President  Taylor,  172. 
LIVERMORE,  Isaac,  170. 
LIVINGSTON,  Brockholst,  209. 
Louis  PHILIPPE,  King  of  the  French, 

court  and  conversations,  255-258. 
LYNDHURST,  Lord,  258. 


INDEX. 


477 


M. 

MADISON,  James,  Webster's  visit  to, 
74. 

MARSHALL,  Chief  Justice  John,  Web 
ster's  opinion  of,  126;  in  Washing 
ton,  176;  in  the  Supreme  Court, 
209. 

MAKSHFIELD,  Webster's  first  visit  to, 
264 ;  history  of,  265 ;  soil,  271. 

MASON,  Jeremiah,  compared  with  Jere 
miah  Smith,  56;  Webster's  friend 
ship  with,  57-8;  Webster's  first 
meeting  with,  58  ;  anecdotes  of  Web 
ster  and,  59-64 ;  Webster's  estimate 
of,  64 ;  anecdote,  65 ;  in  the  Bramble 
case,  67 ;  eulogy  of  Webster  on,  73. 

MONICA,  engaged  as  servant,  310; 
anecdote  of,  312;  grief  at  Webster's 
death,  312. 

MUMMA,  John,  anecdote  of,  350. 


NORRIS,  Moses,  244 ;  speech  at  Frank 
lin,  250. 

NORTHAMPTON  Will  case,  105-110. 
NOTES,  Parker,  50,  80. 


P. 


PARKER,  Joel,  opinion  of  Webster  as 
a  lawyer,  44. 

PARSONS,  Theophilus,  Webster's  de 
scription  of,  81,  83. 

PIERCE,  Franklin,  Webster's  estimate 
of,  201-203;  visit  to  Franklin.  244; 
speech,  251;  nominated  for  Presi 
dent,  253;  friendship  for  Webster, 
254. 

PINKNEY,  William,  quarrel  with  Web 
ster,  119-123 ;  Webster's  description 
of,  120;  anecdote  of,  124;  in  the 
Supreme  Court,  208. 

PLUMER,  William,  Webster's  opinion 
of,  207. 

PRESTON,  William  C.,  236. 


R. 

RANDOLPH,  John,  Webster's  contro 
versy  with,  119. 
REVERE,  Paul,  381,  382. 
RUSK,  Thomas  J.,  241. 

S. 

SANBORN,  John,  case  of  85-97. 

SCOTT,  Winfield,  candidate  for  Pre«i- 
dent,  197,  199;  Clay's  opinion  of, 
216. 

SEWARD,  William  H.,  Webster's  opin 
ion  of,  200. 

SHAW,  Lemuel,  Webster's  opinion  of, 
127;  appointment  to  the  bench,  127. 

SMITH,  Jeremiah,  compared  with  Jere 
miah  Mason,  56;  Webster's  opinion 
of,  57. 

SPRAGUE,  Peleg,  Webster's  estimate 
of,  128. 

STARK,  General  John,  meeting  with 
Webster,  51. 

STEVENSON,  J.  T.,  193. 

STOCKTON,  Richard,  208. 

STORY  Joseph,  visit  to  Webster,  156 ; 
in  the  Supreme  Court,  209. 

SULLIVAN,  John,  377-381. 

T. 

TAYLOR,  John,  295;  anecdote,  297; 
letters  from  Webster  to,  298-310. 

TAYLOR,  Zachary,  elected  President, 
170;  Webster's  opinion  of,  199. 

THOMAS,  Captain  John,  264,268 ;  anec 
dote  of,  269. 

THOMAS  family,  of  Marshfield,  265. 

TODD,  Thomas,  209. 

TYLER,  John,  Webster's  opinion  af, 
207. 

w. 

WASHINGTON,  Bushrod,  209. 
WAYNE,  James  M.,  opinion  of  Web 
ster's  legal  ability,  143. 


478 


INDEX. 


WEBSTER,  Daniel,  birth,  1;  home 
stead,  1 ;  account  of  family,  9  ;  affec 
tion  for  Ezekiel,  10 ;  learns  death  of 
Ezekiel,  15 ;  relics  of  boyhood,  17 ; 
attends  school,  17 ;  anecdotes  of  boy 
hood.  18-23 ;  college  poetry,  23 ;  as  a 
school  teacher,  24 ;  anecdote, 25 ;  law- 
reading,  27 ;  predictions  of  future 
eminence,  28;  studying  law,  30;  ad 
mitted  to  the  bar,  30 ;  opinion  of 
law  studies,  31;  visits  Boston,  32; 
interview  with  Christopher  Gore, 
32;  becomes  a  student  in  Mr.  Gore's 
office,  34 ;  offered  clerkship  of  Mer- 
rimack  court,  36;  seeks  Mr.  Gore's 
advice,  37;  refuses  clerkship,  42; 
Joel  Parker's  opinion  of  him  as  a 
lawyer,  44;  first  appearance  in  Su 
perior  Court,  45 ;  opens  an  office  at 
Boscawen,  47 ;  anecdote,  47 ;  de 
scription  of  him  at  the  bar,  48; 
removal  to  Portsmouth,  50 ;  increase 
of  practice,  51 ;  anecdote  of  meeting 
with  General  Stark,  51;  anecdotes, 
54,  55;  opinion  of  New  Hampshire 
judiciary,  56  ;  counsel  in  the  Bram 
ble  case,  67;  anecdote,  70 ;  anecdote, 
72;  eulogy  on  Jeremiah  Mason,  73; 
visit  to  ex-President  Madison,  74; 
anecdote,  75;  gives  legal  advice  to 
Aaron  Burr,  75 ;  anecdote,  76 ;  esti 
mate  of  his  own  legal  powers,  79  ; 
qualities  as  a  lawyer,  79 ;  opinion  of 
Samuel  Dexter,  81,  82;  description 
of  Theophilus  Parsons,  81,  83 ;  legal 
fees,  84;  counsel  in  the  Sanborn 
case,  85-97 ;  counsel  in  the  Kennison 
case,  97-101;  anecdote  about  the 
Kennison  case,  101;  counsel  in  the 
Goodyear  rubber  case,  102-104; 
anecdote  about  horse  "  Trenton," 
104 ;  counsel  in  the  Northampton 
will  case.  105-110;  anecdote  about 
Samuel  \$"illiston,  110  ;  anecdote  re 
lating  to  Dartmouth  College  case, 
111;  legal  briefs  and  notes,  114; 
impressions  of  English  courts,  116; 
length  of  American  arguments,  117 ; 


opinion  of  B.  R.  Curtis,  118;  con 
troversy  with  John  Randolph,  119 , 
opinion  of  duelling,  119;  quarrel 
with  William  Pinkney,  119-123; 
description  of  Pinkney,  120 ;  anec 
dote  of  Pinkney,  124;  friendship 
for  William  Wirt,  126;  anecdote, 
126 ;  opinion  of  Chief  Justice  Mar 
shall,  126 ;  opinion  of  Chief  Justice 
Shaw,  127;  anecdote,  127;  estimate 
of  Judge  Peleg  Sprague,  128 ;  rela 
tions  with  George  Blake,  128-138; 
estimate  of  his  own  forensic  powers, 
138-143;  Rufus  Choate's  opinion  of 
him  as  an  advocate,  145 ;  respect  for 
the  bench,  145 ;  public  life,  147 ;  cho 
sen  a  Representative  to  Congress, 147; 
Senator  and  Secretary  of  State,  148; 
nominations  to  the  Presidency,  148 ; 

G~peech  in  reply  to  Hayne,  149  ;  anec- 
ote  of  Mr.  Everett,  149 ;  Remarks  on 
preparing  speeches,  151;  anecdotes 
of  Hayne,  152,  153 ;  letters  on  reply 
to  Hayne,  154-156;  Everett's  opin 
ion  of  him  as  an  orator,  157 ;  anec 
dote,  158  ;  powers  of  illustration,  159 ; 
anecdote  apropos  to  Jackson  Cabinet, 
159;  appointed  Secretary  of  State 
by  President  Harrison,  160;  anec 
dote  about  inaugural  message,  161; 
negotiation  of  Ashburton  Treaty, 
163;  controversy  with  Lewis  Cass, 
165;  despatch  denying  right  of 
search,  169;  dinner  with  the  Massa 
chusetts  Electoral  College,  170; 
speech  in  reply  to  Abbott  Lawrence, 
174;  reflections  on  the  past,  176; 
conversation  about  public  career. 
177;  soliciting  offices,  178;  anecdote, 
180;  reply  to  French  Minister,  181; 
invitation  to  Faneuil  Hall,  181 ;  Fan- 
euil  Hall  refused,  182-193 ;  delight 
at  Appleton's  nomination,  194;  can 
didate  for  Presidential  nomination 
(1852),  194;  disappointment,  195; 
conversation  on  politics  at  Marsh- 
field,  196-203;  opinion  of  Harrison, 
198;  of  Clay,  199:  of  Fillmore,  199; 


INDEX. 


479 


of  Scott,  199;  of  Seward,  200;  of 
Pierce,  201;  prophecy  concerning 
California,  203;  opinion  of  political 
economy,  204;. caution  in  speaking 
of  others,  205;  criticism  of  public 
men,  206 ;  respect  for  President  Ty 
ler,  207  ;  opinion  of  William  Plumer, 
207  ;  description  of  leading  lawyers, 
208;  veneration  for  John  Adams, 
209 ;  visit  to  John  Adams,  210 ;  visit 
to  Thomas  Jefferson,  211 ;  opinion  of 
Thomas  Jefferson,  212;  contrasted 
with  Henry  Clay,  214 ;  advocacy  of 
Clay,  215;  hostility  of  Clay,  216; 
opinion  of  Clay,  217 ;  relations  with 
Calhoun,  218;  anecdote  of  7th  of 
March  Speech,  219  ;  relation  with 
Benton,  222;  anecdote  of  W.  and 
John  Wilson,  224;  opinion  of  Silas 
Wright,  233;  regard  for  Rufus 
Choate,  234;  relations  with  William 
C.  Preston,  236;  opinion  of  George 
Evans,  237;  friendship  for  Hiram 
Ketchum,  240;  letter  to  D.  S.  Dick 
inson,  240;  opinion  of  Thomas  J. 
Rusk,  241 ;  friendship  for  Samuel 
A.  Eliot,  242 ;  visit  to  Franklin,  243 ; 
dinner  party  at  Franklin,  244-253 ; 
conversations  with  Louis  Philippe, 
255  ;  at  the  French  Court,  255  ;  in  the 
British  House  of  Lords, 258 ;  estimate 
of  Lord  Lyndhurst,  258 ;  estimate  of 
Lord  Brougham,  259 ;  in  the  English 
courts,  260  ;  speech  about  Kossuth, 
261;  home  life,  263;  first  visit  to 
Marshfield,  264  ;  farming  tastes, 
272 ;  introduces  kelp  and  men 
haden  as  manure,  273;  attachment 
to  Marshfield,  276;  anecdotes  about 
cattle,  276,  277;  fondness  for  ani 
mals,  278 ;  boating  habits,  279  ; 
anecdote,  280 ;  favorite  horses,  282 ; 
anecdote,  282 ;  names  of  guns,  283 ; 
fondness  for  shooting  and  fishing, 
283  ;  sporting  anecdotes,  283-294  ; 
kindness  to  birds,  291 ;  love  for 
Elms  Farm,  Franklin,  294;  interest 
in  farming,  295;  ill  at  Franklin, 


296;  anecdote,  297;  letters  to  John 
Taylor,  298-310;  engages  Monica 
as  servant,  310;  aids  in  purchasing 
Bean's  freedom,  313 ;  personal  traits, 
316 ;  devotion  to  family,  317 ;  physi 
cal  vigor,  317;  description  of  per 
sonal  appearance,  by  Fletcher,  318; 
affection  for  first  wife,  318-322; 
letters  of  Grace  Fletcher  Webster, 
322-328;  anecdote  of  courtship,  328; 
anecdote,  329;  grief  at  daughter's 
death,  331;  early  friendships,  332; 
dislike  of  scandal,  335;  absence  of 
rancour,  336 ;  courtesy  in  debate, 
337;  kindness  of  heart,  338;  anec 
dotes,  338,  339;  neighborly  kind 
ness,  340;  anecdote,  341;  anecdote, 
344;  fondness  for  familiar  scenes, 
346 ;  visit  to  New  Hampshire,  346 ; 
anecdote  of  personal  courage,  350; 
sense  of  humor,  355;  anecdotes  il 
lustrating  humor,  355-366;  habits 
at  table,  360;  daily  habits,  366;  pro 
priety  in  dress,  366 ;  love  of  flowers, 
367 ;  fondness  for  the  sea,  368 ;  in 
difference  to  wealth,  368 ;  anecdote, 
370;  charity,  371;  anecdote,  372; 
anecdote,  374;  love  of  good  stories, 
376;  anecdotes,  376-381;  anecdote 
of  Samuel  Adams  and  Revere,  381, 
382;  anecdote  of  Indians,  383-386; 
in  England,  388;  anecdotes,  388- 
390  ;  discourse  on  the  age,  390;  re 
ligious  thoughts  and  feelings,  393; 
on  importance  of  the  Sabbath,  393 ; 
religious  character  in  youth,  394; 
account  of  joining  the  church,  396 ; 
appearance  in  church,  398 ;  taste  in, 
sermons,  400;  as  a  practical  Chris 
tian,  402;  anecdote,  402;  friendship 
for  Dr.  Adams,  408 ;  conversation  on 
religion,  406 ;  fondness  for  Watts's 
hymns,  409  ;  anecdote  of  visit  to 
John  Colby,  410  ;  anecdote  of  his 
father.  411;  last  days,  422;  acci 
dent  at  Kingston,  422;  anecdote, 
423 ;  journey  to  Boston,  426 ;  illness, 
425;  last  conversations  at  Marsh- 


480 


INDEX. 


field,  428-436 ;  incidents  of  last  days, 
437-444;  death,  444;  Dr.  Jeffries' 
account  of  death,  444;  mourning  at 
Marshfield,  447 ;  resting  place,  448 ; 
statue  in  Central  Park  (Appendix), 
449. 

WEBSTER,  Ebenezer,  birth  and  char 
acter,  2 ;  as  a  revolutionary  soldier, 
3;  guards  Washington's  tent,  4; 
family,  8. 

WEBSTER,  Edward,  286. 

WEBSTER,  Ezekiel,  Daniel's  affection 
for,  10 ;  early  struggles,  11 ;  teaches 
school,  12;  character,  14;  death,  15. 

WEBSTER,  Fletcher,  183,  276,  283, 286, 
289,  318,  329,  355,  426,  441. 


WEBSTER,  Grace  Fletcher,  318-322; 
letters  of,  322-328;  courtship,  328. 

WHIG  party,  career  of,  198. 

WICKHAM,  Mayor,  address  (Ap 
pendix),  453. 

WILLISTON,  Samuel,  anecdote,  110. 

WILSON,  John,  anecdote,  224;  recon 
ciled  with  Benton,  227. 

WINSLOW  family,  266. 

WISTHROP,  Robert  C.,  address  (Ap 
pendix),  461. 

WIRT,  William,  Webster's  friendship 
for,  126 ;  anecdote,  126. 

WRIGHT,  Silas,  Webster's  opinion  of, 
233. 


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